THE VINEY SKETCHES 

by 

BLANCHE GOODMAN. 

PZ 3 
I .G619 
V 

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THE 

VINEY 

sketches 


BY 

BLANCHE GOODMAN. 


Reprinted by permission from The 
Saturday Evening Post, 

“To My Mother” 

This little volume is dedicated with 
love by the author. 


ELDRIDGE ENTERTAINMEMT HOUSE 
Franklin^ Ohio. Denver^ Colo. 


CONTENTS 



Book Raisin’ 3 

Checkmating Miss Fanny 0 

A Change of Heart 17 

Educating Sally Ann 22 

The Equalizing Bug 28 

Helping Rosabel 35 

On Matrimony ^ 39 

Out on Bail ^ 43 

Rechristening Cornell 50 

Rockbottom and Miss Sally Baker 1 54 

The Unaccountable Sex 62 

Viney at the Moving Pictures 68 

Viney on Conservation 74 

Viney on Club Doings 77 


Copyright 1918 

By Eldridge Entertainment House 

DEC 12 IS18 

©:i.A5095G9 


Book-Raisin’ 


*‘Dis heah presen’ gmg eratio n,” said Viney as she 
sprinkled down the clothes preparatory to ironing and 
tightly wadded each piece before placing it in the bas- 
ket, “lays too rnuch sto’ by books.” 

“Folks says,” observed Uncle Peter, “dat hit’s books 
what mek de young people smahter’n de ol’ uns nowa- 
days.” 

“Folks!” sniffed Aunt Viney scornfully. “What 
folks says dat? De young uns deyself says hit, dat’s who. 
But you an’ me knows better. De things what ’mounts to ■ 
somep’n am always heah to be learnt, ef dey is. put down 
in books er not ; an’ de things what don’ ’mount to shucks 
dries up an’ blows ’way, jes’ lak all no ’count things does 
ef you goes on an’ lets ’em alone. I had a exspe’unce 
oncet where I run plumb up against de book-learnin’ 
business, an’ you can be de j edge of who come out on 
top. 

“I was out in de yahd one day hangin’ out clothes 
when Miss Fanny sent word fo’ me to come on up to de 
house right dat minute an’ he’p her git ready to go ’way, , 
■cause she’d jes’ got bad news fum Miss May an’ she was 
gwine to take de train dat ve^’y aft’noon an’ go to her. 

“I run as fas’ as my laigs could tote me, an’ when I 
come on up to de house I foun’ Miss Fanny dat tore up 
an’ worritted dat I couldn’t scarcely do nothin’ wid her. 
She tol’ me dat a telegraph had come sayin’ Miss May 
had a.pensights an’ have to have it tuck out ef she want 
to live. Dat’s whut Miss Fanny tole me ’tween cryin’ an 
wringin’ huh ban’s. Fum de soun’ of hit I knowed dat 
whut Miss May had mus’ ’a’ been somep’n awful, an’ I 
helped Miss Fanny to git ready as fas’ as I could. 

“Viney,” say Miss Fanny as 1 went on out to de 
ca’iage wid her an’ de Gunnel to tell her goodby, ‘I reckon 
Miss May’ll be ca’ied to de infernery an’ Ise a-gwine 
to sen’ de white nuss she’s got ovah heah wid de baby, 
’cause hit’ll be better f o’ hit to be heah twel she am all 


3 


u 


Book Raisin' 


right again; an’ I’ll pen’ on you to ovahsee things even 
ef de nuss am a fus’-class one.’ 

“Dat was on a Choosday, an’ on Thu’sday Gunnel 
Slocum got word to meet de nuss an’ baby at de depot. 
Isom hitch up de ca’iage an’ me an’ him an’ de Gunnel 
went on down to wait twel de train come in. Pretty soon 
here it come a-rumblin’ an’ puffin’ in, an’ when hit slowed 
up an’ stopped a white lady carryin’ a baby in huh ahms 
steps off. 

“We all got in de ca’iage, an’ den I tuck a good look 
at de baby. Laws, Uncle Peter, I don’ know when I has 
evah seed such a puny lookin’ chil’ — nothin’ but skin an' 
gristle — an’ fo’ de life er me I couldn’t he’p sayin’: 
‘How come de baby so po’ an’ spin’ling?’ I don’ think 
de Gunnel notice how bad dat li’l thing look, he was so 
chuck full er bein’ a gran’pa, er else he didn’ want to 
let on. 

“ ‘De baby am puffeckly well,’ say de train nuss. ‘He 
am not perzackly what you calls fat, but he am healthy, 
’cause we’s a-raisin’ him ’cordin’ to de rules laid down 
in Doctor Bolter’s book an’ he’s a-gwine to be de fines' 
baby in de Ian’.’ 

“I says to myse’f : ‘Ef he’s a-gwine to he better 
‘ hurry up an’ git on de road, fo’ he’s a fur ways frum 
hit.’ Den I says out loud: ‘S’posin’ you lets me hoi' 
him in my ahms a while so dat you can res’.’ I was jes' 
achin’ to fol’ dat li’l lamb up to me. At dat de nuss 
open her eyes wide at me an’ ’spon’s: ‘Thanky, Viney, 
but ’cordin’ to de book hit’s bad fo’ de baby to be belt by 
so many dif’ent people so I’ll jes’ keep him.’ Well, ef dat 
didn’ beat my time ! I ain’t open my mouf after dat, an’ 
I jes’ set an listen to de Gunnel axin’ questions ’bout 
Miss May an’ how she was gittin on, while we rid up to 
de house. Dat mawnin’ I had gone on up to de garret 
an’ brung down a cradle what was up dere — de ve’y one 
dat Miss May herse’f had been rocked in — an’ had put 
hit in de room where de nuss an’ de baby was to be. De 
minute we come in de room an’ her eyes lit on hit she 
say: ‘Am dat fo’ de baby?’ ‘Yes’m,’ says I, awful proud, 
‘dat’s de one dat de baby’s own ma slep’ in.’ An’ den 
what you reckon dat nuss say, Uncle Peter?” The old 


Book Raisin' 


5 


man shook his head as he gazed at Viney with a blank 
expression. 

■ ‘‘She tor me/’ said Viney slowly, watching the ef- 
fect of her words on Uncle Peter, “dat de rules er de 
book was dead agin cradles! Yes, dat’s what she said! 
Den she went on to ’splain dat de rockin’ did somep’n er 
other to de baby’s diges’ment an’ addled up some sort er 
gray stuff what am in de brames, an’ a lot mo’ fool talk 
’bout things what no one evah hearn tell of outside er de 
man what writ de book, an’ he nevah was no ma hisse’f, 

V _so how could he tell ? 

“Well, I seen den an’ dere dat one of two things was 
gwine to happen— dey was gwine to be a set-to, er else 
I’d have to jes’ nachully let her walk all ovah me an’ not 
say nothin’. As I knows better’n to be unmannerable 
to white folks I stepped back an’ give her de middle er de 
road. 

— '"Of. all de nonsense dat I evah hearn tell of dat 

baby was put thoo de wussest. You mus’n’t pat him on 
de back when he have de colic ’cause hit jars de spine. 
You mus’n’t ’low no one to kiss him ’cause dey am li’l 
wiggly things on folks dat you cain’t see wid de neckid 
eye, what am li’ble to drap off on de baby an’ give him 
/ all kinds er ’zeases. # I ax de nuss: ‘How come ef folks 

V has got dem things on ’em dat dey ain’t got de ’zeases 
I you say dey gives to de baby?’ but she couldn’ ’splain 
I hit to me un’erstandably, an’ I don’ b’lieve she knowed 

herse’f.l You mus’n’t talk much in front er de baby, 
’cause^ dat gits hits mind to wukkin’ befo’ de time sot 
fo’ hit to wuk an’ de book am strong agin dat. I cain’t 
’member all de things dat nuss did tell me, but no matter 
what she say, I always tol’ her ‘Yes’m,’ ’cause I knowed 



hit was de bes’ way to ac’. 


V “De baby wa’n’t pickin’ up a bit, an’ dem book doin’s 

was hahmin’ him. Anybody wid a half eye could see 
hit. Babies has got to have some love, an’ dis un didn’ 
have nothin’ but rules to live off’n. One aft’noon when 
de nuss had gone out to take her airin’ I went on up to 
, de room where de baby was layin’ an’ frettin’ sof’ lak 
to hisse’f, jes’ wantin’ to be tuck up in some one’s ahms. 
‘You po’ li’l angel,’ says I, ‘I don’ keer ef a hun’erd books 


6 


Book Raisin* 


an’ fo’ty-nine train nusses. say hit’s agin de rules, I’m 
a-gwine to rock you to sleep.’ Wid dat I tuck him out’n 
de bed, an’ settin’ down in a rockin’ cheer I commence 
.goin’ back an’ fo’th an’ singin’, jes’ like I use to sing 
to my own chillen an’ Miss Fanny’s. I ain’t got no 
•fu’ther ways ’long dan. 

Blow, Gab’el, blow, an’ call yo’ chillen home, 
when de baby open his eyes at me wid de queerest look, 
.lak as ef he was pleased but didn’ know what to mek of 
hit. Den he closed ’em agin an’ put his li’l hand on my 
bosom, much as to say: ‘Go on wid it. Dat’s what I 
has been missin’ all dis time.’ I went cl’ar to de back er 
j.my haid fo’ all de songs I use to sing to de chillen when 
'dey, was babies, an’ one after another I sung an’ sung 
*,an’- us two havin’ de grandes’ time together whatevah 
ryou hearn tell of. He jes’ sung ’long wid me, in de way 
'babies does, sorter croonin’ lak, twel bimeby de ban’s er 
de clock had crep roun’ mos’ to three an’ hit ,was time 
■fo’= de nuss^to come back. I had kep’ a eye on de window 
so’S'I could see up de street, an’ sho’ nuff heah she come 
back fum her airin’. De baby was soun’ asleep. I laid 
, him op his bed an’ I says : ‘Don’t yo’ fret no mo’, honey 
rlamb, you an’ me am a-goin’ to have a good time together 
ev’ry aft’noon,’ An’ dat’s jes’ what we done. Somehow 
; befo.’ long hit S'eem lak dat baby commence lookin’ mo’ 
happier; but yet he wa’n’t doin’ de way a baby ought 
• to be doin’, fo’ what he needed was fat. I couldn’ see 
how he was a-gwine to evah git a staht. 

"" , ‘‘iOne day when de nuss was standin’ down in de 
■ kitchen fixin’ de milk an’ stickin’ a li’l glass stick in hit 
to see how many hots hit was — she could er jes’ as well 
poke her finger in hit to fin’ out — I says to myse’f : 
‘Milk ain’t all dat chil’ needs.’ An’ dat aft’noon when de 
nuss was gone I ca’ied some pot-liquor up to de baby. 
You ought to seen de way he enjoyed hit an’ smack his 
lips ovah hit fo’ mo’. ‘Dat shows what you needs,’ says 
I, an’ sho’ nough ’twan’t many days befo’ de pockets in 
his skin begin to fill up an’ he look lak a real baby stid 
er imbertation er one. 

“De nuss wqs takin’Me credit to herse’f an’ swellin’ 
up ’bout dat book-raisin’ business, an’ I jes set back an’ 


Book Raisin* 


7 


let her. I reckon she nevah would a foun’ de real cause 
ef she hadn’ a walked in on me an' ketched me feedin’ 
de baby while I was holdin’ him on my lap in de rockin' 
cheer. 

,7 “When she ketched her breff she dashed at me lak 
a houn' after a possum, grabbed dat baby up an' say 
'tween her teef: ‘How das' you tech dis baby what's in 
my cha'ge? How das' you set in a rockin' cheer wid 
him? How das' you feed him milk widout me pescribin' 
hit?' At dat I broke in — tho' dey wa'n't 'nough room 
in her conbersation to git in a pinpoint sca'cely: ‘Dis 
ain't milk, hit's pot-liquor'; an'. Laws! you ought to 
hearn de yell she let out. 

^ “Gunnel Slocum was downstairs in de libery wid de 
rheumatiz, but all dat noise distracted his intention an' 
he drug hisse'f upstairs to see what de fracas was 'bout. 

“ ‘Gunnel Slocum,' de liuss hollered as soon as he hit 
de do', dis heah woman am feedin' de baby pizen when 
my back am turned, an' interferin' wid my wuk heah!' 
At dat de Gunnel's eyes bulge out too fo' a minute, but 
befo' he had time to say a word I picked up de cup an' 
spoon dat quick an' helt 'em un'er his nose. ‘Pot-liquor,' 
says I, jes' lak dat, an' de Gunnel's eyes went back in 
again. 

“‘Tut! tut!' he say to de nuss as he sniffed at de 
cup; ‘ef dis am pizen I reckon dey wouldn' a been no 
sojers in de Souf to fight in de wah, fo' dey wa'n't none 
of 'em but what knbwed de tas'e of dis stuff when dey 
was babies.' 

“ ‘You means,' say de nuss, ‘dat you's a-gwine to 
let dis baby be fed on stuff what dey ain’t no rules in de 
book fo'?' ‘Viney's de one dat can settle de question,' 
'spon's de Gunnel. ‘She's brung up all my chillen an' 
her'n, an' I reckon she knows somep'n 'bout hit.' 

“ ‘Den,' says de nuss, ‘I designs my job right heah!' 
an' dat's what she done. 

“ ‘You's all mine now,' says I to de baby, an' he 
crowed at me lak he un'stood what I say. De Gunnel an' 
me made hit up dat we wa'n't gwine to say nothin' to 
Miss Fanny ner Miss May twel dey come. 

“ ‘De time pass by an' de baby doin' finer ev'y day 


8 


Book Raisin* 


twel he was so fat an’ sassy you wouldn’ ’a* knowed him. 
Miss Fanny writ dat she was ready to bring Miss May 
back wid her an’ keep her heah twel she git mo’ stronger. 
Dey come on home one evenin’, an’ de fus’ thing Miss 
May ax fo’ of cose was de baby. She was dat anxious an' 
'cited dat she couldn’ sca’cely wait twel I brung him in 
de room — an’ such a-goin’ on as dey was when I toted 
him in an’ belt him out to her! She couldn’ sca’cely 
b’lieve hit ’twas her own chile, de improvements on him 
was so pow’ful much. As soon as she sorter settled down 
she say: ‘But where am de nuss? Why ain’t he in de 
room? She am a pufiick wonder an’ I wants to see her 
right dis ve’y minute!’ 

“ ‘You’s a-lookin’ at her right now,’ says de Gunnel, 
chucklin’ to beat de ban. ‘Heah’s de onliest nuss what 
knows how to raise de Slocum babies anyhow,’ an' he 
laid his han' on my ahm. Den he ups an’ tells de whole 
story, an’ I don’ nevah remember when I ha’ seed Miss 
Fanny ner Miss May so please wid me. 

“ ‘In de middle of de talk, though, I notice Miss 
May sniffin' an' sniffin’ at de baby, sorter curious lak, an' 
den she say: ‘Viney, hit pears to me lak I smells bacon 
on de baby.' ‘Dat’s jes' edzackly what you smells,’ says 
I, ‘fo’ I lets him chaw on a strip now an’ den de same 
lak I use to let you.' 

“‘Bacon!' say Miss May; ‘bacon! Why, Viney, de 

book say ' an’ at dat she stopped an’ we all busted 

right out laughin’. Dat was de las’ I evah hearn of 
book-raisin’ in dat house.” 

“Den,” said Uncle Peter, “I reckon you don’ set 
much sto’ by no kin’ er book dat dey has now’days, does 
you?” 

“Ef you's bawned widout common sense, dey ain’t 
a-gwine to do you no good ; an’ ef you’s bawned wid com- 
mon sense, you don’t need ’em,” was Viney ’s answer. 


Checkmating Miss Fanny. 


“MawninM” called Viney to Uncle Peter as he 
paused in the roadway before the cabin. “Whar is you 
boun’?» 

“I gwine up to Majah Buffo’d’s to he’p dig a foun- 
dation, an' Ise got to hurry." Uncle Peter approached 
the gate. 

“Mought as well come on in an' set a minute an' res' 
yo'se'f," invited Viney, tossing the last bit of breadcrust 
to a pair of fowls that waited expectantly near her. 

“I promise' Majah Buffo'd to be up at de house 
early." As he spoke the old man came slowly up the 
path to the cabin steps and laboriously deposited him- 
self upon the one nearest the ground. “I nevah dis'- 
points no one." 

“Whut's Majah Buffo'd havin' a foundation dug fo?" 
inquired Viney as she seated herself upon the step be- 
side him. 

"He's gwine to have a b' jection made to de front 
mirandy," answered Uncle Peter, his gaze wandering 
leisurely about the yard. "Dem two Dominickers you 
was jes' f cedin' am new, ain't dey?" 

Viney followed his glance to the fence corner, where 
the couple of fine-looking pullets were busy scratching 
gravel. A slow smile overspread her countenance. 

"Dem young Dominickers is a peace gif'," she an- 
nounced. "Gunnel Slocum p'sented me wid dem fowl." 

"A peace gif'?" Uncle Peter's face expressed his 
interest and curiosity. "How come?" 

"Fo' bringin' down peace on de Slocum househol'. 
Dat's whut de cunnel say. An hit's to be a secret fum 
Miss Fanny — on'y," continued Viney, with a puzzled 
look, "I cain't puzzackly mek out whut I done to bring 
peace 'bout." 

Uncle Peter, settling himself more comfortably upon 
the steps, waited expectantly. 

"Uncle Petah," began Viney, "has you evah noticed 
how dat, when chillen ain't no sooner'n got raised and 

9 


10 


Checkmating Miss Fanny 


growed up, dey tu’ns roun’ an’ commences raisin’ dey 
pa’unts de way dey thinks de job oughta been did?” 

“Dat have come under my noticement,” agreed Un- 
cle Peter. 

“Well, dat’s whut happen at de Slocumses. Hadn’t 
Miss May come ovah heah fum Nashville an’ egged huh 
ma on into givin’ dat sufiidge tea she give — you ’mem- 
bers de time, Uncle Petah — dey nevah would ’a’ been no 
trouble. Ez long as I has knowed de cunnel an’ Miss 
Fanny, de on’y diff’ence dey evah haves am in de spring- 
time of de yeah, when Miss Fanny stahts in fo’ to ar- 
range de flower beds on de front lawn, an’ de cunnel 
tries to disrup’ her intentions. 

“Fum de time dat meetin’ was belt dey was a change 
come ovah Miss Fanny. Hit look lak a new sperit got 
into huh ; an’ a bigger diif ’ence in any one I nevah seed ! 
Miss Fanny’s whole conbersation wa’n’t nothin’ but suf- 
fidge an’ votes fo’ women; an’ durin’ Miss May’s whole 
visit to huh ma dem two ladies ain’t done a thing but 
traipse roun’ all day gittin’ up clubs an’ mekkin’ de 
yuther ladies sign de pledge dat dey’d go in fo’ de ‘Cause,’ 
as Miss May called hit. Miss Fanny would ’a’ no mo’ 
thought of gittin’ in such messes ef Miss May hadn’t 
put hit in huh haid dan she’d ’a’ thought o’ flyin’. 

“At fus’ Cunnel Slocum tuck hit as a joke, an’ ev’y 
time Miss Fanny’d staht to argyfyin’ wid him he’d set 
back an’ laugh at huh same’s if she was a child, an’ not 
answer huh questions ’cep’n wid teasin’. But by-an’-by, 
whut wid hit goin’ on at breakfus’, dinner an’ supper, an’ 
Miss Fanny commencin’ to stay ’way fum home so much, 
de cunnel begin to see hit wa’n’t such a joke as he 
thought hit was; an’ he stahted in gittin’ right-down 
cross ’bout hit. Miss Fanny wa’n’t doin’ a thing but 
sashayin’ roun’ fum one meetin’ to another, stahtin’ in 
early in de mawnin’ an’ not gittin’ back twel evenin’ 
some time. 

“Hit seem right queer dat de time had evah come 
when she wa’n’t settin’ on de po’ch wid her sewin’, wait- 
in’ fo’ Cunnel Slocum to come home. Now hit was 
all switched roun’ de yuther way. De cunnel was de one 
on de waitin’ list, an’ he’d tek his papah an’ p’ten’ to 


Checkmating Miss Fanny 


1 


read; but, fum de way he was knittin’ his eyebrows an"^ 
scowlin^ to hisse’f, dey wasn’t much readin’ goin’ on as 
I could see. 

“One aft’noon I come on out to ask him how soon he 
^spected Miss Fanny home, as she had promise’ to give 
me a poorhouse plaster fo’ Isom’s back ef I’d come fo’ hit. 

“Gunnel didn’t answer me at fus’. He jes’ looked at 
me wid a far-away look in his eyes an’ den say: ‘Viney, 
how soon befo’ you am gwine to staht out fo’ to git de 
vote ?’ 

“I wa’n’t lookin fo’ dat kin’ er answer to my ques- 
tion, an’ hit kinder stumped me fo’ a minute. An’ den 
I says: ‘As soon as Isom tells me I cain’t do hit, suh!’ 
jes’ lak dat! 

“Fo’ a minute de cunnel set up straight an’ look’ at 
me square in de eye, lak as tho’ he didn’t catch whut I 
’spon’ to him; an’ den all of a sudden he r’ared back an’ 
let out a laugh dat could ’a’ been heard cl’ar to kingdom 
come. By-an’-by he slap’ his knee an’ give one mo’ 
chuckle. Den he sot quiet a minute, jes’ thinkin’. ‘Dat’s 
de cure!' he say, mo’ to hisse’f dan ef he was speakin’ 
to me. ‘Dat’s de cure! Viney, ef whut I has in my min’' 
wuks out you’s gwine to git a presen’ fum me.’ 

“I says: ‘Yes, suh — thanky, suh, Cunnel Slocum!’ 
— tho’ I didn’t un’stan’ de connection. But I ain’t de 
kind to defuse a presen’ dat am offered in a kin sperit; 
so I thanked him ag’in an’ lef’ him settin’ 'dere meditatin’. 

“Hit was sev’al days. Uncle Petah, befo’ I got up to 
Slocumses agin, because I was he’pin’ out on’y now an’ 
then; an’ when I did git back, I foun’ de bigges’ s’prisc: 
waitin’ me dat you c’n ’magine. Hit didn’t tek me no 
time to see dat sumpin had happen’ in de Slocum house- 
hold dat was out o’ de ord’nary; an’ when de whole trufe 
come out I jes’ sot down in my tracks! 

“I had walked in de house an’ axed fo’ to see Miss. 
Fanny, when de housemaid says : 

“ ‘Dey’s, gone to a suffidge meetin’ !’ 

“ ‘Who do you mean by dey?’ says I. 

“ ‘Gunnel an’ Miss Slocum,’ she answer. 

‘“Gunnel Slocum gone to a suffidge meetin’!’ says. 


12 


Checkmating Miss Fanny 


I, leanin' aginst de wall to pVent myse’f fum fallin* ovah. 
^Well, de Lawd bless us!’ 

“Uncle Petah, I don’t know perzackly how hit come 
^bout, but hit sho’ was de case. Endurin’ de time I was 
Away — hit wa’n’t mo’n a week — Miss Fanny mus’ a 
wucked de rabbit’s foot on de cunnel, and he had done 
gone an’ jined de Cause! He hadn’t jes’ dabbled one 
foot in hit neither — he’d walked in plum up to his neck; 
an’ de suffidge question was takin’ on him lak a case er 
measles. 

“Miss Fanny was so pleased an’ tuck up ’splainin’ 
i:hings to him dat she tu'ned de housecleanin’ entirely 
ovah to me endurin’ de time sot to do hit; an’ when de 
two of ’em wa’n’t ’tendin’ some meetin’ or othah dey was 
readin’ outen de book whut Miss Fanny had on de subjec’ 
or outen de newspapers ’bout some millet-hands acrost de 
;sea whut had busted into de votin’ ring — ^tho’ whut farm 
hands wants to mix up in politics fo’ is mo’n I can see! 

“Cunnel Slocum had been in de habit of goin’ down 
to ’ten’ to his law business, rain er shine, ev’y day; but 
now he commence’ gittin’ sorter slack ’bout bein’ early 
to de office, an’ by-an’-by he commence’ skippin’ a day er 
so an’ stayin’ home so’s he could put mo’ time on suffidge 
wid Miss Fanny. As his nephew, Mistah Frank, was in 
de office, anyhow, I reckon de business was bein’ ’tended 
to; an’ maybe dats’ why Cunnel Slocum tuck to stayin’ 
home sev’al days at a time ; an’ pretty soon he plum’ quit 
goin’ down an’ jes’ phomed to Mistah Frank now an’ 
4en. 

“Whenever dey’d talk on de phome de cunnel’d laugh 
a monst’us lot, an’ speak low to Mistah Frank in de 
phome deceiver, lak as do’ de law business was pow’ful 
funny. Dey mos’ usually talked wid each othah when 
Miss Fanny was out er bearin’; so I reckoned de cunnel 
didn’t want to distrack huh min’ fum de Cause wid his 
business affairs. 

“Wid all dis goin’ on, hit looks lak Miss Fanny’s 
face ought to ’a’ stretched wider an’ wider wid happi- 
ness ev’y day, fo’ she had ’complished huh aim an’ won de 
cunnel, haht an’ soul; but. Uncle Petah, hit wa’n’t de 
case. I knows Miss Fanny lak I does myse’f, an’ dey 


Checkmating Miss Fanny 


IS' 


ain’t nevah de littles’ thing whut’s eatin’ on huh dat I 
cain’t tell hit as quick as I sees huh. An’ sumpin sho' 
was eatin’ on huh now. She’d git a sort er res’less look 
in huh eye ev’y now an’ den when she thought no one 
wa’n’t lookin’, an’ mos’ ’specially when de cunnel’d set- 
tie hisse’f in de mawnin’ aftah breakfus’ an’ staht in to 
read out loud ’bout de advancement of de Cause an’ de 
p’ogress hit twuz makin’. 

“Miss Fanny begin to look lak huh min’ wa’n’t near 
as much on de advancement of de cause as hit was on 
sumpin else; an’ one mawnin’ she broke out in de middle 
of de cunnel’s readin’ an’ says, crosslike: ‘Gunnel Slo- 
cum, don’t you reckon hit’d be jes’ as well to let de read- 
in’ wait twel dis evenin’, an’ you go on down to yo’ office 
fo’ a change? You know de law business needs yo’ in- 
tention now an’ den.’ An’ Miss Fanny suttenly did look 
sour when she say ‘now an’ den.’ 

“De cunnel was so s’prised he couldn’t speak fo’ a 
minute; he jes’ sot back an’ look’ at Miss Fanny. Den he 
riz up ez tall ez de ceilin’ mos’ an’ says, sorter hurtlike: 

“ ‘Give up de Cause befo’ we’s got to de end of de 
fight! Tu’n mah back on de nobles’ war whut was evah 
fit an’ walk offen de fiel’, leavin’ de others to ca’y on de 
battle! I is shocked at you, my deah — I is wuss dan 
shocked!’ 

“Dem was de wu’ds as well as I can ’member dem,. 
Uncle Petah. An’ dey was some mo’ too, whut I fo’gits; 
but Cunnel Slocum suttenly did look gran’ when he was 
sayin’ ’em, an’ Miss Fanny look’ so emba’sseed an’ swiv- 
eled up when he got done talkin’ dat she tried to cover 
up huh feelin’s by beggin’ him to go on readin’. Hit 
took a sight er coaxin, to git de cunnel stahted too ! 

“Dat night, when Isom come home, he was tellin’ me 
of sumpin dat happen’ in town de aft’noon befo’, whut 
set me to thinkin’. He had drove Miss Fanny down to 
do some shoppin’ an’ jes’ as she was gittin’ in de ca’iage 
to go home, Gen’l Poindextah an’ Mistah Tom Clay come 
up an’ commence’ plaguin’ huh ’bout de cunnel bein’ de 
onlies’ man in town whut had j’ined de petticoat fo’ces 
— as dey called hit; an’ dey cornered huh up so wid dey 
teasin’ dat Miss Fanny los’ huh tempah an’ drove off all 


U Checkmating Miss Fanny 


flustrated. Isom said dat, fum whut he could jedge fum 
whut dey tol huh, she must ’a’ been bearin’ de same on 
all sides; an’ hit was beginnin’ to mek Miss Fanny as 
touchy as a so’ tooth. 

“Uncle Petah, de queeres’ paht of de whole thing 
was dat de cunnel an’ Miss Fanny had swapped places, 
an’ he was de one now dat was chuck full er de suffidge 
question, an’ Miss Fanny had sorter los’ ginger. Any- 
body could see wid half a eye, ef dey knowed huh lak I 
does, dat she was on’y p’tendin’ to keep huh min’ on hit; 
but she had bit off mo’n she could chew, an she had to 
keep on p’tendin’, er have de laugh on huh good an’ hahd. 

“Things has to come to a haid when dey gits in a 
fix lak dat. Dey was to be a gran’ p’rade of de suffidge 
ladies in town; an’ Miss Fanny an’ Majah Buffo’d’s wife, 
bein’ de high muckamucks of de Cause, was to haid de 
p’rade an’ ma’ch all de way down Main Street an’ back — 
not a man in line; not even de brass ban', ’cause de 
Young Ladies’ Sem’nary had offered dey se’vices to 
p’vide dey own band. 

“Dey was all to be dressed in white ; an’ I heard Miss 
Fanny say dey was gwine to ca’y banners wid ’vices on 
’em; an’ wear de colors of de Cause, puzzackly lak de 
Daughters of Africa do when we has a gran’ tu’nout. 

“Mistah Frank was up de evenin’ befo’ — he hadn’t 
been up to de house fo’ a coon’s age — an’ dey was settin’ 
at de table talkin’ ’bout de doin’s dat was gwine to be de 
nex’ day. Miss Fanny says to de cunnel: 

“ T reckon de bes’ place fo’ you to see de p’rade fum 
would be de cou’thouse yahd.’ 

“‘See de p’rade fum!’ ’spon’s de cunnel. ‘Why, I’s 
gwine to be in de p’rade mahse’f I’ 

“ ‘You!’ says Miss Fanny, risin’ halfway up in huh 
chair wid s’prise an’ den settin’ down agin. ‘I fails to 
see de joke, Cunnel Slocum!’ she says, sorter dry lak. 

“Mistah Frank was takin’ a drink er water, an’ jes’ 
den he choked an’ coughed twel de cunnel had to slap 
him on de back to git him straightened out. 

“‘Am dey a rule agin de men enterin’ de p’rade?’ 
asks Cunnel Slocum after Mistah Frank was quiet. 

“ ‘Miss Fanny stopped fo’ a minute. Den she says; 


Checkmating Miss Fanny 


15 


‘“Not puzzackly; but de understanding am ’ 

“ ‘Well/ says de cunnel, ‘so long as dey ain’t no rule, 
I reckon dey cain’t put me out ef I wants to j’ine hit!’ 

“Hit look’ lak Mistah Frank had sumpin wrong wid 
his swallerin’ pipes, ’cause he choked agin; but he over- 
come it hisse’f, widout any he’p. 

“ ‘Hit’s a women’s p’rade,” says Miss Fanny, as 
stiff as a remrod an’ wid huh eyes snappin’ lak dey do 
snap sometimes ; ‘an’ dat am de understanding all ovah.’ 

“ ‘Well, bless my time, Fanny!’ says Cunnel Slocum, 
lookin’ mos’ pow’fully ’stonished, ‘ef you ain’t aimin’ to 
git de men on yo’ side whut in de name o’ common sense 
am you aimin’ fo’?’ 

“Miss Fanny looked stubbo’n an’ belt huh haid 
stiffer. 

“ ‘Dat am not de question, Cunnel Slocum!’ she says. 
‘De question am: Is you gwine to ride in de p’rade?’ 

“ ‘Dat’s whut I is!’ he ’spon’s, sotlike roun’ de jaw. 

“Miss Fanny didn’t answer fo’ a minute. Den she 
says: 

“ ‘In dat case, you’s gwine to be de onlies’ man in de 
whole p’rade!’ 

“ ‘Den hit shows how much fu’ther ’long in p’ogress 
I is dan de res’ er de men,’ says Cunnel Slocum. ‘Sholy 
you ain’t meanin’ fo’ me to backslide at de importantest 
time, after you’s been an’ converted me to de Cause!’ 

“Miss Fanny look’ lak she was so mad she was ready 
to cry. 

“ ‘You’s jes’ aimin’ to mek a laughin’ stock out er 
yo’se’f an’ me, Cunnel Slocum!’ she says. ‘An I am ex- 
pressly askin’ you now to keep yo’se’f out of de p’rade, 
fo’ I has tuck as much teasin’ on dat subjec’ fum de men- 
folks as I can stan'!’ Miss Fanny suttenly looked pow’- 
ful earnes’. 

“ ‘Oh !’ say de cunnel, gittin’ up fum de table an’ 
walkin’ ovah to huh chair. ‘Now we’s cornin’ to de p’int!’ 
An’ he tuck Miss Fanny’s han’ in his’n. ‘S’pose dat you 
an’ me mek a ’greement right now an’ settle de question 
all roun’.’ 

“‘How?’ asks Miss Fanny. 

“ ‘Leave votin’ an’ politics to me,’ says de cunnel. 


16 


Checkmating Miss Fanny 


smilin’ at huh lak a sweetheart. ‘Be lak you used to be 
fo’ dis suffidge business come up — a gyahden of flowers 
where I can come an’ enjoy de loveliness an’ sweetness, 
an res’ aftah a day of toil!’ 

“Well, Uncle Petah, you knows how Gunnel Slocum 
can talk language when he gits stahted, ’cause you’s 
heard him speak on de Fofe er July at de Confeddick 
Cemetery. In a minute he had Miss Fanny smilin’ an’ 
blushin’ lak a seventeen-yeah-ol’ gal. Ef dey am a mem- 
ber of de female sect whut could hoi’ out agin such ar- 
gyfyin’ as dat I ain’t nevah sot eyes on huh. An’ be- 
sides, Miss Fanny had nachully los’ int’res’ in de Cause.” 

“Did she ride in de p’rade?” asked Uncle Peter. 

“She had to do dat much,” said Viney, “’cause she’d 
give her promise ; but dat was de en’ of de business — f o’ 
aftah dat things sorter simmered down to de ol’ way — 
in de Slocum household. Hit was de day after de p’rade 
dat Gunnel Slocum sent me dem pullets wid Isom.” 

“Uncle Petah,” said Viney presently, “now dat you’s 
heard de story of how I come by ’em can you splain de 
reason?” 

Uncle Peter slowly shook his head. 

“I cain’t,” was his answer; “but dey ain’t no need 
of you ticklin’ a gif’ boss in de hind feets!” 


A Change of Heart. 


“De longer I lives de mo’ I b’lieves dat men an’ 
women’s mighty nigh alike when dey’s all shuck up to- 
gether an’ you comes to take account of de diffunce be- 
tween ’em.” 

As she spoke, Viney drew from the tub before her 
a piece of snowy linen and wrung it vigorously. The 
visitor who had “drapped in for a spell” nodded in 
acquiescence. 

“Ef a woman’s fool enough to git down on de groun’ 
an’ let a man tromp on her neck, he ain’t a-gwine to 
lose no time a-doin’ hit,” resumed Viney. “An’ on de 
other han’, ef a man fin’s out dat a woman ain’t a-gwine 
to stand no browbeatin’, but jes’ turns roun’ an’ lights 
in on him good an’ strong when he starts his nonsense, 
w’y, he’ll come to his senses fo’ long, an’ have all kin’s 
er respect fo’ her. 

“Me an’ Isom got along as peace’ble as a pair o’ 
doves fo’ de fifs’ few yeahs. He didn’t ’low me to work 
hard; so I only took in two washin’s a week, an’ he 
give me spendin’ money off an’ on. Co’se I had to pay 
fo’ de groceries wid it, but he give it to me fo’ spendin’ 
money, anyhow. 

“We went along dat a way till ’bout de time Su- 
sannah was past fo’ yeahs, an’ Henry Clay three, an’ de 
twins, Sodom an’ Gomorrah, was jes’ beginnin’ to 
crawl. 

“Den Isom commenced to drap off in his work, an’ 
took to drinkin’ an’ beatin’ me mos’ every night, stid er 
jes’ Sat’days. I tried hard to put up wid him, but 
looked like de harder I tried de wusser he ’have his- 
self. Mo’n once I started to take de chillen an’ pick up 
an’ leave him; but when hit come to de p’int I jes’ 
couldn’t. 

“Things kep’ goin’ fum bad to worse, but I belt 
my mouf shet ’bout my troubles an’ kep’ my haid up as 
high as ever, tho’ de Lawd knows hit was propped by 
a achin’ neck. 


17 


18 


A Change of Heart 


**One day I was at Mis^ Fanny’s washin’ windows, 
an’ feelin’ so miser’ble I wouldn’t ’a’ cared ef I’d drapped 
in my tracks dat minit, when Mis’ Fanny says to me: 
‘Viney, how is you an’ Isom gittin’ ’long?’ 

knows now dat mealy-moufed Ros’bel, her house- 
maid, had been tellin’ her things; but when she spoke 
I didn’t stop to think of nothin’. I jes’ busted right out 
cryin’ an’ kep’ hit up till mighty nigh dark, Mis’ Fanny 
gittin’ at de trouble by bits, meantime, ’cause I hated 
to air my mis’ry. But she an’ me was raised together 
on her pappy’s plantation, an’ I was almos’ lak her own 
blood an’ kin to her. 

"“Co’se,’ she says, ‘I could sen’ fo’ Isom an’ have de 
Gunnel tell him what’s what, but I don’ believe in any 
mixtry ’tween outsiders an’ husban’ an’ wife, twel ev’y- 
thing else has been tried fus’.’ She studied fo’ a while. 
‘Has you prayed to de Lawd to soften Isom’s heart to’ds 
you, Viney?’ she said. 

“‘Shucks!’ says I. ‘Prayed? Why, I’s prayed twel 
my tongue feels loose at bofe en’s. Looks like de Lawd 
Hisself done give Isom up.’ 

“ ‘My goodness, Viney,’ says Mis’ Fanny, lookin aw- 
ful s’prised at me. An’ den she tol’ me dat my troubles 
mustn’t make me bias’ furnace — er sumpin’ lak dat. 
‘What I wants you to do,’ she says, ‘is to go home dis 
very night an’ pray yo’ hardest, an’ de Lawd’ll send you 
a sign. Only, you’s got to remove all doubt from yo’ 
heart while you prays.’ 

“Hit was pas’ suppertime when I got home, an’ de 
house was all dark an’ de chillen crying. Not a sign of 
Isom. But I was ’spectin’ dat. I fixed de chillen a snack 
an’ put ’em to bed. When dey was all quiet an’ soun’ 
asleep I went an’ tuck out de Bible what Mis’ Fanny give 
me long ago, an’ went down on my knees an’ prayed.” 

“I prayed loud an’ I prayed low; I prayed hard an’ 
I prayed sof’ ; I prayed long an’ I prayed strong. Ef dey 
was evah a mo’ pow’ful reques’ sent up to de Jedgment 
Seat I’d like to shake ha’ns wif de pusson what sent hit. 
An’ all thoo de prayer I kep’ repeatin; ‘Lawd, sen’ me 
a sign! — Lawd, sen’ me a sign!’ 


A Change of Heart 


19 


“I was sayin’ it as hard as I could when down draps 
somethin’ on de flo’ besides me an' like to scairt me stiff, 
’cause I wasn’t lookin’ fo’ nothin’ to happen. I grabbed 
de candle an’ belt hit so as I could see, an’ what you 
reckon hit was? A ol’ buggy whip what Gunnel Slo- 
cum had give to Buddy — dat’s Henry Clay — an’ I had 
laid hit on top of de wardrobe ’cause he had mighty nigh 
pestered de life out of Sodom an’ Gomarrah wid it. 

'*1 couldn’t un’erstan’ how come dat whip to fall, an’ 
I stood dere wid hit in my han’, lookin’ at hit sorter stu- 
pid-lak, when, all of a sudden, ‘Glory hallelujah!’ I 
shouted, ‘Glory hallelujah! De Lawd done sent me a 
sign! Praise His name!’ 

“I was goin’ on dat a way when I hears Isom fumb- 
lin’ at de do’. I kept on a-shoutin’, meanwhile boldin’ 
on to de whip wid one han’ an’ takin’ a piece of clo’es- 
line offen a cheer wid de other. Wid dat Isom fell in de 
room. 

“I didn’t wait fo’ him to exchange de time of day 
wid me. I reached out, tuck dat niggah by de scruff er 
his neck, sot him in de cheer, an’ wrop dat clo’esline 
roun’ him so quick dat he didn’t have time to make no 
’bjections — dat is, not to ’mount to nothin’. Den, when 
he seen what I done, he commence to git madder’n a hor- 
net. An’ I felt de Sperrit risin’ in me. 

“ ‘You let loose er me,’ says Isom. 

“ ‘Isom Harris,’ says I, ‘de Lawd has showed me a 
way dis night to bring you back to de fol’. You has been 
a stray sheep fo’ a long time, but, wid me’n Him workin’ 
together, we’s a-gwine to Jbring you back. Glory halle- 
lujah!’ 

“ ‘Quit yo’ fool talk, woman,’ says Isom loud-lak, ‘an’ 
let loose er me, er else I’ll make you smaht fo’ dis.’ 

“De Sperrit kep’ a-risin’ in me. ‘He’s done sent me 
a sign,’ says I. ‘Glory, glory hallelujah!’ An’ wid dat, 
kerblam! I come down on his shoulders jes’ as hard as 
I could cut. He seen hit a-comin’ an’ tried to dodge, but 
hit didn’t do him no good. Down I come, faster’n faster, 
an’ him beggin’ me to stop. 

“ ‘Glory be!’ says I every time de whip come down. 


20 


A Change of Heart 


‘Hallelujah! I has prayed fo' a sign an’ my prayer was 
answered.’ 

“ ‘Viney, baby,’ says Isom, a-whimperin’, ‘don’t 
you love yo’ husban’?’ 

“ ‘De Bible say,’ says I, ’ef you nourishes a ser- 
pent’s toof in yo’ bosom hit’ll turn to a adder. Isom Har- 
ris, you has 'been a serpent’s toof, but dis heah very 
night, you shall be washed white by de help of de Lawd.’ 
Wid dat I begin layin’ it ovah his shoulders ag’in. 

“ ‘De Bible say,’ says Isom, a-hollerin’ between 
licks, ‘ “Wives, obey yo’ husban’s.” ’ 

“ ‘I ain’t never saw any sich in de Bible,’ says I, 
while de Sperrit jes’ swelled an’ swelled in me, ‘but I’ll 
b’live it’s dar ef you’ll show me whar hit says a woman’s 
’bleeged fo’ to let her husban’ dance on her haid (ker- 
blam!) an’ was’e his money on craps an’ drinkin’ (ker- 
blam) an’ all sorts er meanness (kerblamt). Isom Har- 
ris, de Lawd still loves you, an’ dat’s why He’s chas- 
tisin’ you an’ has done chose me as de instrument. I 
asked Him to gimme a sign, an’ behol’I I was give de 
sign. Glory hallelujah!’ Wid dat I fetch him one mo’ 
lick. 

“By dat time Isom had got mighty nigh sober. He 
looked at me skeered-lak. 

“ ‘What you gwine to do now?’ he says weak-lak an’ 
small. 

“ ‘I’s a-gwine fur to loose you so’s you can give 
praise fo’ what has come to pass.’ 

“Isom groaned when he riz up out er de cheer after 
I unwrap de rope, but he was beginnin’ to see de light 
an’ he ’sponded feebly, ‘Amen!’ to all what I said. 

“I went on up to Mis’ Fanny’s de nex’ mawnin’ to 
tell her ’bout de mir’cle what was worked. She an’ de 
Gunnel was at breakfus’, but she had me come right in 
jes’ de same. When I finished tellin’ her she jumped up 
an’ come ovah an’ pat me on de back an’ says: ‘Ain’t I 
done tol’ you, Viney, dat de Lawd don’ nevah let a ear- 
nes’ prayer go unanswered?’ ” 

“ ‘What de Gunnel say?” inquired the visitor. 

Viney snorted contemptuously. “De Gunnel? Well 


A Change of Heart 


21 


he’s de mos’ curouses’ actin’ pusson, sometimes, evah 
you saw. All de time I was tellin’ Mis’ Fanny ’bout de 
mir’cle he was down behin’ his newspapah, an’ when Mis’ 
Fanny tell me what she did he made de stranges’ splut- 
terin’ soun’ an’ lit out er de room like he was tryin’ to 
ketch de lightnin’ express !” 


Educating Sally Ann. 


Dey’s only two kin’ er folks what book learnin’’ 
was intended fo’.” Viney, leaning over the fence, arms 
akimbo, addressed Uncle Peter, who had drawn up his. 
donkey cart in front of the cabin and had dismounted 
for a “gate” visit. “Dem what’s bawn puny an’ not fit- 
ten to spen’ dey time no other way, an' rich folks what 
ain’t got in wid de quality yet, an’ is tryin’ to find out 
how to act in high society. 

“When de Lawd makes po’ folks an’ gives ’em two 
good arms He ain’t aimin’ fo’ to have de job spoiled bjr 
havin’ dem stick dey noses ’gainst a book all day. No, 
suh ! He aimed fo’ ’em to work, dat’s what he did, an’ hit 
makes me plum rambunctious to hear some niggers giv- 
in’ deyselves airs ’cause dey kin sign dey names an’ got 
a little book learnin’. 

“I was tellin’ Lindy Jackson somep’n like dat, de 
day she come over to ax me my ’pinion ’bout sendin’ 
Sally Ann away wid a Yankee woman what wanted to- 
tote her No’th with her, an’ put her in one of dem schools 
up dere. 

“ ‘Nigger,’ says you don’t know what you is fixin’ 
fo’. Jes’ ’cause Sally Ann can speak some pieces what 
one er Miss Fanny’s gals learnt her, an’ can read readin’ 
out of a book an’ write a little writin’, ain’t no sign dat 
she’s got a call to leave home an’ stuff her haid wid a lot 
o’ book trash same as white folks. You an’ me ain’t 
never been to no school. Ain’t bofe of us got along all 
right? Is dey any one what can beat us two when hit 
comes to bakin’ a possum, er makin’ a beat biscuit, er 
doin' up a week’s washin’, an’ sendin’ hit home lookin’ like- 
snow? Did you have to git book learnin’ to make Alex 
pop de question? You brung up all yo’ chillen thoo de 
mumps an’ measles an’ hoopin’ cough widout knowin’ 
how to sign yo’ name. You took Alex’s sass an’ made 
a middlin’ good husban’ out o’ him. Could yo’ ’a’ done 
hit all any better ef yo’ had ’a’ gone to school ?’ 

“Lindy looked sorter stumped when I give hit to her 


22 


Educating Sally Ann 


straight like dat, but she was like all de rest of de folks 
what comes to you to ax yo' opinion; she didn’t have no 
notion of doin’ what I said, an’ all de time I was talkin, I 
could see dat she’d sot her mind on sendin’ Sally Ann up 
No’th wid de white woman, so I might as well ’a’ saved 
my breff. 

"‘De nex’ Sunday, when I met Lindy at de Daughters 
o’ Zion meeting an’ ax her how ’bout Sally Ann, Lindy 
smiled an’ sorter flung her haid up like a skittish boss 
an’ says: Thanky, Sally Ann’s done gone No’th to git 
aidgecated.’ 

“ ‘Aidgecated?’ says I. ‘Huh!’ An’ I snorted at her 
jes’ like dat, ’cause hit riles me to see a coon git biggity 
ovah somethin’ dey ain’t got no call to swell up ’bout. 

“ ‘Well,’ says I, ‘I sho’ do hope dat she’ll git all she’s 
gwine fo’.’ And wid dat I passed on. 

“Fo’ two years Sally Ann stayed up No’th gittin’ 
aidgecated. Every onct in a while she writ letters home 
tellin’ ’bout how fine hit wuz up dere an’ how fas’ she 
wuz cornin’ ’long. Lindy’s white folks read ’em to her, 
an’ onct she brung one er de letters ovah fo’ me to read. 
Co’se she knowed I couldn’t read no mo’ dan she could, 
but she jes’ done hit to sorter come hit ovah me ’cause 
I’d been so hahd set agin sendin’ Sally Ann away. 

“I didn’t take a fit ovah de letter an’ dat kinder got 
nex’ to Lindy. Fum dat time she cooled off to’ds me an’ 
stopped drappin’ in. 

“Time went on, an’ Sally Ann kep’ gittin’ aidgecated. 
One mawnin’ las’ summer Ros’bel come ovah to he’p me 
put up some p’serves . ‘Who you reckon come home las’ 
night?’ says Ros’bel as she stepped in de do’. 

“Dat question always makes me madder’n a wet hen 
’cause hit’s de bigges’ fool question er de whole bunch 
er fool questions, so I didn’t answer, but jes’ went on 
i’nin’ one er Gunnel Slocumses shirts. 

“ ‘Sally Ann,” says Ros’bel, seein’ I wouldn’t nibble 
at de bait. ‘She come home on s’prise ’cause de white 
woman what tuck care o’ her am daid, an Sally Ann ’ud 
had to go to wuk ef she stayed up No’th.’ At dat I 
couldn’t help chucklin’. ‘Has you done seen her?’ say 1. 
‘Yes, I done seen her,’ says Ros’bel, ‘an’ Lawd! de airs 


Educating Sally Ann 


2^ 


dat coon does put on! Tor me please to don’t call her 
Sally no mo’. Up No’th dey called her Sarah. An’ she 
talks prissy, tryin’ to soun’ like Miss Fanny an’ dem. 
Hit gimme a pain to listen, so I come away soon. I ain’t 
gwine to have folks rear dey haid back an’ look down 
to’ds de end of dey nose when dey speaks to me.’ 

“Fum dat I jes’ ’bout see what Lindy wuz gwine to 
have to put up wid. Co’se I’d done wahned her how 
’twould be, but jes’ de same I ain’t de kin’ to crow ovah 
folks. 

“Me an’ Lindy bein’ bad fren’s I didn’t drap over 
to see de prodigal. But Ros’bel kept me infawmed of de 
doin’s of dat blame fool gal an’ her stuck-up notions. 
‘She’s got some sort er doin’s to monkey rou’n on her 
fingernails wid, says Ros’bel, an’ she breshes her teeth 
same as white folks. She brung a passel er books 
wid her an’ sets up by de winder all day long lookin’ at 
’em pretendin’ to read, cause she couldn’t ’a’ learnt all 
dat printin’ in two years.’ 

“Dat’s what I heerd from Ros’bel. She said Sally 
Ann batted her eyes when she talked, like as if cinders 
wuz blowin’ up in her face, all de time goin’ on ’bout de 
No’th dis an’ de No’th dat, till I knowed hit must ’a’ 
touched Lindy on de raw. 

“Hit ran along dat way fo’ ’bout a month, Sally Ann 
playin’ lady an’ Lindy swallowin’ hit in silence, till Alex 
got took wid de fever, an’ hit was work er go hungry wid 
Miss Sally Ann, ’cause her mammy wasn’t takin’ in 
enough to feed ’em all. Hit was jes’ nip-an-tuck wid 
’em. I buried de hatchet an’ walked ovah to Lindy’s one 
mawnin’. I could see she was took back consi’dable when 
I walked in, but she didn’t let on. We passed de time er 
day an’ talked ’bout Alex fo’ a while, an’ bine-by I come 
straight an’ says : ‘Lindy, Miss Fanny wuz axin’ me ’bout 
gitti’n her a cook, ’cause de old one’s gwine to leave her 
an’ she’s fixin’ fer to break a new one in.’ Lindy tried 
wid all her might to look like ’twant nothin’ to her ef 
Miss Fanny wanted a dozen cooks, but you could jes’ 
see de anxiousness stickin’ out all over her. ‘What you 
reckon she pays?’ says Lindy, sorter keerless like. ‘Dey 
wa’nt nothin’ said about pay,’ I told her; she jes’ said 


Educating Sally Ann 


25 


cook, dat’s all, an' I wuz thinkin' ef Sally Ann would 
like to try, hit would make a mighty good staht fo’ her/ 
‘Sally Ann’s got diffent ideas ’bout makin’ a livin’,’ 
commence Lindy, but she didn’t git no farther ways 
’long, ’cause I walked all over her an’ de outcome wuz 
dat when Sally Ann come home — she wuz out when I 
spoke wid Lindy — dey settled hit between ’em, an‘ Sally 
Ann set in at Miss Fanny’s a-Monday mawnin, aidge- 
cation an’ all. 

“On Tuesday I wuz up at Slocumses to he’p wid de 
cleanin’, like I always does when I heerd Miss Fanny 
tellin’ Sally Ann what to fix fo’ dinner. ’Ceptin’ fo’ 
a hen dat wuz to be cooked wid rice, dey wa’nt much to 
do, an’ a baby in ahms could ’a’ got dat dinner blin’folded. 
Miss Fanny tol’ her all ’bout how to fix de hen an’ den 
she lef’ Sally Ann an’ come on in de house wid me. 

“When time come to dish up I wuz back in de kitchen 
settin’ down sorter sociable like, tryin’ to strike up a 
confab wid dat nigger jes’ to show her she couldn’t be 
puttin’ on dog when I wuz aroun’. 

“But she wouldn’t strike up. Jes’ acted like one er 
dese circus queens on pay day an showed de whites er 
her eyes at me ev’y now an’ den. I felt like smackin’ 
her jaws fo’ her, but I didn’t let on. Bine-by heah come 
Miss Fanny in de kitchen an’ say: ‘Viney, spose you 
sorter he’p Sally Ann wid de dishin’ up today, ’cause 
she’s new an’ we’ll give her a little lift at fust. I upped 
an’ put on a clean apron an’ got ready fo’ to carry in de 
food. I must say dat I wuz s’prised at how nice dat hen 
looked layin’ back in de rice an’ ready to carve. De Gun- 
nel he always does de carvin’ ’cause can’t no one do hit 
to please him. 

“I sot de hen on de table an’ stood back er Gunnel 
Slocum waitin’ to pass de plate roun’. Dey wuz a young 
gen’lman — one er de gals’ beaux — what had drapped in 
unexpected like, an’ dey had invited him to stay an’ eat 
wid ’em. 

“Gunnel Slocum wuz busy sharpenin’ de carvin’ 
knife. Pretty soon I seen him take de fork in his hand, 
rear back like he always do befo’ he starts de actual 
carvin’, ram hit down in de hen’s bosom, an’ gr-r-r! You 


26 


Educating Sally Ann 


know how hit soun’s when you scrape yo’ foot on a bed 
er wet gravel, ’ceptin’ dis was ten times wusser! Ev’y- 
body looked up puzzled like. Gunnel Slocumses face 
turned de color of ripe watahmillion meat, an’ he let out 
de only damn Fs evah heerd him say ’fo’ any one but de 
fam’ly. Sally Ann had cooked dat hen widout openin’ 
hit, an’ de Gunnel had run into de gizzard! 

“He tried to han’ me de dish quick befo’ de comp’ny 
seen hit, but his intentions wuz too late. Eve’ybody had 
got a look at de hen an’ hit didn’t need no spyglass to see 
what wuz de matter when hit wuz unkivered fum de rice. 
I took de plate out, an’ sot hit on de kitchen table 
right under Sally Ann’s nose. I ’lowed she’d git all dat 
wuz cornin’ to her fum Miss Fanny, so I belt my tongue. 
I carried in some sliced ham, but eve’ybody’s appetite 
sorter simmered down after dat hen-happenin’, an’ pretty 
soon dey riz up an’ went in de settin’ room, Miss Fanny 
lookin’ jes’ as calm’s if nothin’ had happened. But I 
knowed Sally Ann wasn’t gwine to weah out no shoe 
leather at Slocumses. An’ she didn’t. 

“I wuz at Lindy’s dat afternoon to take Alex a bottle 
er blackberry cordial when Sally Ann come trailin’ in. 
Hit was dark in de room an’ she didn’t rec’nize me ovah 
in de cornder. 

“Fs done give up my position at dem Slocumses,’ wuz 
de way she ’nounced herse’f, ‘’cause I wuz aidgecated fo’ 
higher things. Fs done changed my mind ’bout bein’ 
a common cook.’ ‘Fo’ de Lawd’s sake,’ says Lindy, ‘you 
ain’t done gone an’ lef’ Miss Fanny?’ At dat I spoke up. 
‘Done lef’ Miss Fanny?’ says I, mockin’ Lindy; ‘yes 
she’s done lef’ her . Left her like a cottridge leaves a gun 
— cause she was kicked out,’ says I, an’ when I spoke 
up an’ Sally Ann rec’nized who hit wuz she might’ nigh 
jumped out er her skin. ‘Don’t you try to come nothin’ 
on no one in front o’ me, niggah,’ says 1. ‘You. needn’t 
wall yo’ eyes ’roun’ at me, fo’ yo’ is a niggah, an’ you’s 
mighty nigh a white livered one at dat. Me an’ yo’ mam- 
my’s got mo’ sense tucked under our little fingernails dan 
you is under yo’ whole nappy haid. All yo’ aidgecation,’ 
says I, ‘ain’t kep’ you fum sendin’ a hen onto Miss 
Fanny’s table wid de insides lef’ in hit jes’ like de Lawd 


Educating Sally Ann 


27 


made hit.’ At dat Sally Ann dropped her haid an’ Lindy 
looked like she was mighty nigh ready to drap in her 
tracks. 

“ ‘All yo’ aidgecation/ I kep’ on, ‘ain’t learnt you 
no respec’ fo’ you’ hahd-wu’kin’ mammy what horned 
you an’ has tuck de trouble er raisin’ you. You knows 
how to han’le a pen’ — I come close to her — ‘but you can’t 
bake a batch er biscuits, can you?’ 

“ ‘No’m,’ says Sally Ann, squirmin’. 

“ ‘You knows how to shine up yo’ nails like white 
folks, but you can’t beat up a plain cup cake, can you ?’ 

“‘No’m’ says Sally Ann, squirmin’ some mo’. 

“ ‘You knows how to set up by de winder and show 
off to folks how you can read printin’, but yo’ hain’t 
never done a week’s washin’, has you?’ 

“ ‘No’m,’ says Sally Ann. 

“ ‘What good is all yo’ aidgecation doin’ you ef hit 
ain’t learnt you some sense?’ says I. ‘You’s done gone 
an’ disgraced Miss Fanny an’ dem ’fo’ comp’ny, dat’s 
what you’s done. Quit yo’ cryin’,’ says I, for she begin 
to sniffle at dat : ‘’taint no use f o’ to howl ovah spilt milk. 
Ef you is got a mossel er sense left in you what ain’t 
been aidgecated out of you, you’s gwine to drap yo’ 
persnickety ways an’ git down to business an’ show what 
kin’ er stuff you’s made of.’ ” Viney paused for breath. 

3.“A11 dat happen las’ summer,” she resumed pres- 
ently^. “How come me to tell you ’bout hit I was aimin’ 
to ax you to step in an’ tas’e a piece er lemon custid dat 
ud melt in yo’ mouf. Sally Ann baked hit an’ sent hit 
ovah to me dis mawnin’.” 

“Sho’ nough?” breathed Uncle Peter. 

Viney chuckled. “She’s been cookin’ fo’ Miss Fanny 
evah sence I tuck her in hand an’ put aidgecation out er 
business. Now come on in an’ tasV dat custid pie.” And 
Viney swung the gate open for Uncle Peter. 


The Equalizing Bug. 


“You, Sodom an* Gomarrah! Run in de house an* 
shoo dem chickens out’n de parlor ! Run, I tell you ! De 
las* time de rooster wuz in dere he pecked all de wheat 
trimmin*s off’n my Sunday hat an* he was sick fo* a 
week.** 

The twins rose from the steps where they had been 
teasing an old brindle dog, and made for the parlor with 
some speed. 

A loud, cackling noise issued from within. Shrill 
cries of “Shoo! Shoo!** were heard, and presently sev- 
eral hens made a hasty exit from the cabin, screaming 
thier indignation as they ran. 

“I doesn*t like fo* dem chickens to git in de habit 
o* goin* in de parlor,** explained Viney to Uncle Peter, 
who sat with her on the shady porch of the little dwell- 
ing. “One of de Plymuff Rock hens tuck a notion to 
roos* dere reg*lar, an* de preacher drappin* in *bout dusk 
one day, mistook her fo* a cushion an* set down on her. 
Since den I has been mo* p*tic*lar wid dem chickens an' 
tries to keep *em out heah wid me.** 

She rocked in silence for a moment, her eye roving 
over Uncle Peter*s attire. “*Pears like to me, Uncle 
Petah, you is pow*ful diked out fo* de middle o* de,week. 
How come? You ain*t gwine co*tin*, is you?** V 

Uncle Peter drew himself up with dignity. “Ps 
gwine to de speakin* at de church tonight,*’ was his re- 
sponse, “an* dat’s how come me to drap in. I stopped 
by to ax is you an* Isom gwine to be dere.** 

“Does you mean dat yaller *ooman what come down 
fum Bosting to speak on de Negro Question, as she calls 
hit?** 

Uncle Peter nodded. 

“Lindy Jackson was up heah dis mawnin*,** said 
Viney, “tellin* me *bout how de *ooman come to call on 
her yistiddy, an* talked to her’n Alec *bout how de white 
folks has tromped on us till dey has mighty nigh de- 

28 


The Equalizing Bug 


^9 


structioned our will power, an' dat we'll go on dat-a-way 
until Gab'el blows his hawn, ef we don' cas' off de yoke 
an' equalize ourselves. 

“ ‘Equalize ourselves wid whut?' I ax her. 

“ ‘Wid de white folks,' says Lindy. 

“ ‘Why, Lindy Jackson, I says, ‘I's so plum' 'shamed 
o' you dat I kin feel myself blushin'. What you reckon 
Mis' Fanny an' dem'll say ef dey hears 'bout dis equal- 
izin' business? Ain’t you got 'nough sense, niggali, to 
know dat dey ain't a-gwine to be no right-down equal- 
izin' till us coons stops bein' borned wid black skins an' 
kinky hair?' But, laws! I mought as well saved my 
breff, cause Lindy's done been hit by de equalizin' bug 
an' de effecks o' de bite'll jes' nachully have to wear off. 

“Oncet," continued Viney, meditatively, “I was bit 
by de same bug ; but de bite didn't take on me. 

“Mis' Fanny had a young lady visitin' her fum de 
No'th, what tuck sick wid an' arrangement of de stom- 
ach while she was at de Slocumses. I forgits what de 
doctor called hit, but seem to me lak he say hit was tar. 
Yes, dat was hit — tar of de stummick. 

“I he'ped Mis' Fanny nuss her, an' she tuck sich a 
likin' to me dat when her mammy come down to tote her 
back No'th again, as soon's she was able to travel. Miss 
Amy — dat's her name — jus' carried on somethin' awful, 
till I promise to go back wid 'em an' stay dere till Mis' 
Fanny an' de Cunnel'd come fo' me on dey way home 
fum New Yawk, whar dey was intendin' to go in 'bout 
a month. 

“Hit was my fus' ride on a rai'road train; an' I 
cain't say dat I'm so crazy 'bout ridin' behime a injine 
dat I'm achin' fo’ to take dat trip again. All de time 
dat I was layin' back on de seat, too sick to hoi' up my 
Haid, I kep' thinkin' dat ef I was intendin' to ever git 
home agin I'd have to take de same trip back; an' think- 
in' of hit made me feel 'bout a hunnerd times wusser. 

“Well, all things has to come to a en', an' bimeby 
we come to de gittin' off place. Dey was so many people 
an' street-cyars an' wagons, an' so much noise, dat I ax 
Miss Amy’s ma ef hit was a circus in town — ^hit was win- 


30 


The Equalizing Bug 


ter, so I knowed hit couldn’t be de Fofe o’ July. An’ she 
jes’ laugh an’ tell me hit’s dat-a-way all de time in de 
city, ’cep’n Sundays. 

“When we drove up to de house hit was so gran’ hit 
mos’ tuck my breff away. Dey wa’n’t no use fo’ me to 
p’ten’ lak as if I’d seen somep’n o’ de kin’ befo’, ’cause I 
hadn’t. 

“De place was so chuck full er fine doin’s an’ all 
sorts er things to make folks comf’table, dat hit kep* 
me oneasy de whole time I was dere. 

“My room was right off’n Miss Amy’s, so’s I could 
hear her ef she called in de night; an’ even when she 
commences to git well an’ was pickin’ up fas’ dey made 
me keep de room, though I didn’t feel right stayin’ in 
such a fine one. 

“In de daytime she an’ her ma would take me out 
in de ca’iage wid ’em an’ show me de sights; but of a 
evenin’ I mos’ly wanted to stay in my room,, ’count er de 
homesickness an’ feelin’ so strange. After supper, ’stid 
er talkin’ wid de cook an’ de res’ er de white servants, 
I’d slip up to my room an’ set back in de dark, thinkin’ 
’bout Susannah, an’ Henry Clay, an’ de twins, an’ how 
Isom’d be settin’ out here by de honeysuckle vine pickin’ 
on de banjo, an’ de neighbors drappin’ in to ax how I is 
gittin’ ’long — Miss Amy writ home fo’ me every week 
— till, Lawd! seem lak I couldn’t stan’ hit another 
minute. 

“ 'Mong de folks what come to de house a whole lot 
to see Miss Amy was a lady what dey call’ Miss Short, 
an’ she like to pestered de life out’n me, axin questions 
’bout de Souf, an’ how did I lak hit, an’ all ’bout my fam- 
’ly an’ how we lives. Sometimes while we’d be a-talkin’ 
she’d put down some writin’ in a little book o’ her’n; 
an’ den she’d go on wid de questions, same as a lawyer 
in co’t. 

“At fus’ I didn’t lak hit ; but when I begin to git so 
lonesome hit sort er made me feel better to talk ’bout 
home an’ all, an’ so when Miss Short’d start me to talkin’ 
my mouf’d go lak a mill clapper. 

“One day Miss Short stopped in an’ ax ef she could 


The Equalizing Bug 


31 


tote me over to a club meetin’ dat was to be belt at de 
house of a fr'en’ o' her’n. She say dey was gwine to be 
a talk on de Negro Question an’ maybe I’d want to hear 
hit. As I was sorter cur’ous to know what hit was to be 
lak, an’ Miss Amy an’ dem say fo’ me to go, I went. 

“When we got to de house whar de meetin’ was to 
be, Miss Short brung a heap er ladies up an’ induced me 
to ’em as Mis’ Harris. Hit sho’ did mek me feel queer 
to be called Mis’ by dem white folks; an’ I couldn’t he’p 
but think what de Slocumses’d say ef dey’d ’a’ heard it. 

“De cheers was all lined up in rows in de parlor, an' 
dey had made a sort er flatform up at de far en’ o’ de 
room. I was give a seat in de front row. 

“Befo’ long a man sot down at de planner an’ begin 
to play. De piece sounded familious to me, sorter lak 
hit mought ’a’ been S’wanee Rivah wid trimmin’s ; ’cause 
every time he was ’bout to git into de piece he’d side- 
track an’ run his fingers up an’ down over de keys, like 
he’d los’ de tune an’ was tryin’ to fin’ hit, an’ den he’d 
come down kabang — mad, I reckon, ’cause he couldn’t 
git a holt right. But befo’ he got plum’ to de en’ hit did 
turn out to be S’wanee Rivah after all, ’cause he quit all 
dat monkey business an’ give us de real thing so sweet 
hit gimme de homesickness wuss’n ever. 

“After him dey was a young lady what sang — but 
no one knowed what de song was ’bout — an’ den a boy 
played on de fiddle. Pretty soon a stoutish lady come 
out on de flatform; an’ by de way de folks roun’ me 
was whisperin’ I knowed she was de one what was down 
on de bills fo’ de Negro Question. 

“When she fus’ swung into her speech she used so 
much language I couldn’t make out much of what she 
was say in’ ; but after while she warmed up to de subjec' 
an’ I could tell mo’ what she was talkin’ ’bout ’cause she 
drapped some er de language. 

“ Tart of my inflammation,’ she says, ‘I got fum a 
fren’ o’ mine’ — an’ she cas’ a look at Miss Short — ‘but de 
mos’ of hit I got at fus’ hand, ’cause I spent a week in 
de Souf once, studyin’ up on de subjec’.’ 

“Den she started in fo’ to tell ’em how mistreatened 


The Equalizing Bug 


us cullud folks is, an’ how we is kep’ in igromance an’ 
darkness by de white folks. ‘Hit’s a awful thing,’ she 
says; ‘an’ de sad part is dat dey jes’ goes ’long enjoyin’ 
life, an’ seems to be puffeckly happy. Co’se I doesn’t 
blame dem lak I blames de white folks what dey lives 
’mongst, an’ de mo’ I thinks of dem po’ negroes de bad- 
der I feels. I has visited ’roun’ wid ’em an’ et wid ’em at 
dey own tables, an’ I knows whayof I speaks when I says 
I feels sorry fo’ ’em. But dey’s a time cornin’ when de 
white folks what dey lives near’ll be called befo’ de Jedg- 
ment Seat to ’count fo’ all what dey ain’t done. Dey is 
de ones ^what’s de fault of dey cullud sistern an’ bred- 
ern bein in darkness. Dey is de ones what ’fuses to 
raise up de black race into de light an’ treat ’em as 
equals ’ 

“Well, she was jes’ a-tearin’ hit off, an’ all de time I 
knowed she was aimin’ a backhanded jab at de Slo- 
cumses. I wasn’t goin’ to set back lak a tame rabbit an’ 
hear her pickin’ on my white folks lak dat. No, sir! 
Not ol’ Viney. I jumps up fum my cheer. 

“ ‘White ’ooman, stop!’ says I. You stop right whar 
you is, er you an’ me’ll be de wussest kin’ er bad fren’s.’ 
I walked roun’ to de front an’ all de folkses’ moufs 
drapped wide open, but I wasn’t carin’. I kep’ right on. 

“ ‘Long as you wants to speak ’bout dis here Negro 
Question an’ jes’ sticks to de fac’s ’bout us niggahs I 
ain’t got no quarrel wid you, ’cause I knows we cain’t 
come nowhar near toein’ de mark wid de white folks. 
Long as you wants to worry ’bout us bein’ happy an’ en- 
joyin’ life ’cause we don’t know what’s on de inside of 
book-kivvers, why, dat’s yo’ business, an’ I ain’t got no 
quar’l wid you. I knows good an’ well when de time 
comes fo’ us niggers to equalize ourselves we’s a-gwine 
to do hit of our own free will, jes’ de way you white*folks 
has done wid yo’selves, an’ we don’t need no one to keep 
punchin’ us in de back fo’ to make us move up faster, 
no mo’ dan you white folks does. You-all riz up ’cause 
de feelin’ was bawned on de inside of you what made you 
rise, an’ dat’s de way we’s a-gwine to do hit — jes’ ’cause 
we’ll feel dat-a-way fum de inside. You ain’t trompin’ 


The Equalizing Bug 


33 


on anyone’s feelin’s talkin ’bout hit, though, an’ you can 
say whatever you wants to ’bout us niggers ez long’s 
hit’s in front of our backs. But when you commences 
pickin’ on my white folks, an’ dey ain’t here to take keer 
of deyselves, dat’s a diff’unt thing. I ain’t a-gwine to 
set by wid my mouf shet when dat happens, ’cause ef hit 
hadn’t ’a’ been fo’ Mis’ Fanny an’ de res’ er de Slo- 
cumses I don’t know whar I’d be now. Whenever I is in 
trouble I knows whar to go. Whenever I needs a li’l’ 
piece er money I knows who to ax fo hit. Ef Isom gits 
out of a job er de chillens is sick I knows who’ll give me 
vittles an’ medicine. Hit’s de Slocumses; an’ I’d lay 
down on de groun’ an’ let any of ’em walk on my ol’ 
black neck ef dey tuck a notion to. Co’se you-all is 
mighty nice ladies, but you ain’t like Mis’ Fanny an’ 
dem. Dey is quality, dey is. Why, befo’ Mis* Fanny’d 
nose aroun’ to see how we is livin’, er set down to meals 
wid us in our houses, lak dis lady says she done, er have 
me at a club meetin’ o’ her’n — ’cep’n it’d be to pass roun’ 
de ’freshments — she’d drap in her tracks.’ 

“Jes’ den I stopped fo’ a minit to git my breff. I 
happen to look up to’ds de far en’ o’ de room, an’ settin’ 
back in de cornder, as nachul as life, was Mis’ Fanny an* 
de Gunnel! 

“I let loose one holler an’ wid dat de Negro Ques- 
tion went out er my haid as clean as ef hit had been 
shot by a gun. Wid one jump — leas’ways hit seemed 
dat way to me — I was ’longside of e’m, grabbin’ Mis’ 
Fanny by de han’, an’ squeezin’ hit, an’ shakin’ hit up 
an’ down till hit looked like I was gwine plum’ crazy. I 
was carryin’ on so fo’ gladness. All of a sudden hit 
come over me dat here I had been shootin’ off my lip 
right befo’ Mis’ Fanny an’ de Gunnel as biggity as you 
please, an’ I got so ’shamed er myself I like to died. 
All I could say was: ‘Lordy, Mis’ Fanny, honey, please 
you an’ Gunnel Slocum ’scuze me. I hope I may die ef 
I knowed you was here,’ over an’ over ag’in; an’ de 
buzzin’ an’ talkin’ was goin’ on all roun’ us. 

“Mis’ Fanny tol’ me to don’t talk no mo’ but to git 
my hat an’ come on’ wid dem. She wouldn’t let me 


The Equalizing Bug 


SJ^ 


'splain nothin’, an’ every time I’d start fo’ to tell ’em 
’bout hit she an’ de Cunnel’d bite dey lips an’ turn dey 
haids away an’ tell me dat’ll do, dey knowed all ’bout 
hit. 

*‘De way dey happen to be at de meetin’, as I foun’ 
out later, dey had come in on a s’prise on de aft’noon 
train, an’ Miss Amy’s ma had brung ’em over to de 
place whar I was.” Viney paused. 

**We tuck de train fo’ home de nex’ day. I ain’t 
never set eyes on any of dem equalizers since an’ I ain’t 
missin’ ’em any.” 

Up from the road came the full-toned, rhythmic 
chant of black workmen toiling with their picks in the 
sun. 

^‘Dey’s only one negro question dat I has ever give 
much o’ my min’ to’ds gittin’ answered,” Viney said. 

'‘What am dat?” Uncle Peter turned a curious 
gaze on the speaker. 

“Hit’s ‘Isom, has you brung yo’ week’s wages 
home?”’ was Viney’s response. 


Helping Rosabel 


^'Come right in, Mis* Henderson. Laws, you shore 
is a sight fo* sore eyes. You’ll have to ’scuse de dis- 
appe’ance of dis room. De chillen been a-litterin’ up 
de place till it looks like a cyclone struck hit. I tell ’em 
dat de Good Book say: "Dey’s a time when patience 
ceases to be a moniment,’ but dey don’t listen no mo’n 
a rabbit. Dey’s lak dey daddy. He’s got de disposition 
to be tidy, but he jes’ don’t use it. 

Ain’t hit warm? I declare to gracious de prep- 
aration’s a-drippin’ off me like a shower. Yes’m, I’d be 
feelin’ tollable well if hit wasn’t fo’ de miz’ry in my 
bress’, but I ain’t done so much washin’ lately, so de 
hurtin’ kind slowed up on me. 

‘‘Ain’t you heard I done give up de Slocumses’ 
washin’? Yes’m, last Wednesday a week ago. It’ll be 
fourteen years next November, if I lives an’- nothin’ 
happens, since I first took in dey washin’, and if hit 
hadn’t ’a’ been fo’ dat fool niggah Ros’bel, I’d be ironin’ 
de Slocumses’ clothes dis minute. 

“How come Ros’bel mixed up in it? Well, dat’s 
what I’m goin’ to tell you, but every time I speak dat 
flouncin’ gal’s name I wants to spit. 

“You see, all de trouble come along of her tryin’ 
to git de new preacher over at de Shiloh Baptis’ church 
to pop de question. He’d been keepin’ comp’ny wid huh 
fo’ over a month, an’ hit begin to look lak he was a little 
backwa’ds. Ros’bel bein’ a orphtan an’ not havin’ no 
one to look after huh I kinder took pity on huh an’ let 
huh spend a good deal o’ time at my house. 

“One mawnin’ I was ironin’ a dress of Mis’ Fanny’s 
< — I always call Mis’ Slocum Mis’ Fanny — when Ros’bel 
comes in. De dress was one of dese Maxicum drawed^ 
work pieces, de kind dat’s fix all over like a rockin’ 
chair tidy, an’ I knows it cost a sight o’ money. De 
Gunnel brung hit to Mis’ Fanny when he come back 
fum one of his trips, an’ she set a heap o’ store by hit. 

35 


36 


Helping Rosabel 


“Well, Ros’bel ain't no sooner’n clap her eyes on 
dat dress den she like to had a lit. She ask me how. 
much I’d take to let huh wear hit dat aft’noon, ’cause 
de preacher was goin’ to call an’ he’d shore have de 
blind staggers of de heart if he’d see huh in hit. 

“She come at me so suddent-like I didn’t scarcely 
know what to do. I ain’t, never lent out any of Mis’ 
Fanny’s good dresses, an’ huh askin’ me dat way kinder 
put me to hit. I jes’ argyfied dis hyah way: Mis’ 
Fanny she’s rich an’ got a plenty, but Ros’bel’s a orph- 
tan, an’ de preacher might be de chanst of her life. ‘But 
den again,’ I says, ‘sposen’ something happens to dat 
dress!’ Dere I stood ’sputin’ wid my se’f, an’ all de 
time Ros’bel a-talkin’ me into lettin’ huh wear de dress 
till I was plum’ addled, an’ de end of hit was dat I fin- 
ally give in. But first I made huh mighty nigh swear 
de skin off’n huh tongue dat she’d take good care of de 
dress an’ not let hit come to no harm. 

“I ’member 'de time I let de folks over at de straw- 
be’y festibul have one of Mis’ Fanny’s baffinbug tidies 
fo’ de table, an’ how I had to scorch it wid a hot iron to 
cover up de place where a stain was made on hit, an’ 
den p’ten’ to Mis’ Fanny lak I scorched it by axdent. 
So I made dat gal promise me some mighty tall prom- 
isements. I knowed de dress was servin’ in a good cause 
an’ dat kind of kept me fum feelin’ so oneasy 'bout hit. 

“Well, a little after dinner, here comes Ros’bel to 
my house all ready exceptin’ de dress, ’cause I wouldn’t 
trust huh to git in it by huhse’f. It was a blessin’ she 
come early — leastways I thought so den — for hit took 
till de end of kingdom come to hook huh in dat dress. I 
had to be so careful ’cause hit was a dost fit, an’ by de 
time I finished hookin’ hit I knowed where de name 
'drawed work’ come fum, fo’ hit mighty near drawed 
my nails out by de roots gittin’ dat dress on Ros’bel. 

“But when de job was done dat gal shore did look 
fine! She knowed hit, too, an’ de way she switched up 
an’ down in front o’ de glass, an’ grin at huhse’f lak 
a possum was a sight. 

“While I was standin’ by, miratin’ over her an’ 


Helping Rosabel 


37 


tellin’ huh to play huh cards right an’ she’d git de 
preacher easy, I saw a carriage drive up in front, an’ 
a lady step out an’ come in de gate. ‘Ros’bel,’ says I, 
‘ain’t dat a white lady cornin’ in de gate?’ 

“ ‘Yes’m,’ says Ros’bel. 

“ ‘Laws-a-mussy.’ says I, wonderin’ who it was. ‘I 
ain’t fitten to see no ladies.’ An’ wid dat I kinder 
straighten myself out intendin’ to step to de do.’ 

“An’ den, what you reckon dat fool niggah done? 
It jes’ takes one o’ dese here yaller niggahs to act dat- 
a-way. De black ones ain’t so no-’count an’ flutter- 
headed. She was so anxious to show huhse’f, no sooner 
did a knock come, dan she flung open de do’. An’ dere 
stands Mis’ Fanny! 

“De minute I rec’nize who hit was I tried to jerk 
Ros’bel back in de room an’ git in front o’ huh. But hit 
was too late. Mis’ Fanny ain’t no sooner ’n set eyes 
on dat coon den dey bulge out till you could ’a’ hung 
a hat on ’em, an’ she jes’ said, ‘My dress!’ But dey was 
mo’ language in dem two words dan if sh’ed ’a’ talked 
a week. 

“Dere was so much happen after dat, it fairly 
made my brames spin roun’. Ros’bel screamed an’ 
started to run, but Mis’ Fanny was dat quick, she 
reached out an’ catch her by de Maxicum drawed-work, 
an’ belt on to huh. An’ all de ’splainin’ I was tryin’ to 
do was jes’ breff wasted. I never seen any one so hard- 
headed as white folks is. 

“Mis’ Fanny hung on to Ros’bel like a snappin’ 
turtle, an’ she wouldn’t loose her holt till I peel de dress 
off dat no-’count niggah. I never was so much em- 
ba’ss’ment in all my bawn days. 

“Den she makes me git all de rest o’ de clothes an’ 
have de driver pile ’em in de carriage. I had to send 
one of de chillen out de back way to de nex’-do’ neigh- 
bor’s to git one of Gunnel Slocumses’ white vests dat 
I let Mr. Johnson have de night befo’. 

“John, de driver, tol’ me de nex’ day dat Mis’ Fan- 
ny had come to ask me ’bout a ol’ cook o’ her’n. But 
dat don’t make no diff’ence. White folks got no busi- 


38 


Helping Rosabel 


ness pokin’ roun’ where dey don’t belong, an’ my ’pinion 
o’ Mis’ Fanny cert’nly fell since dat happen. 

‘‘But I knows one thing. If dat yaller-faced, trif- 
lin’, no-’count niggah Ros’bel comes roun’ here askin’ me 
to help huh out in courtin’ again. I’ll have de law on 
huh!” 


On Matrimony. 


Dey am two kin^ er folks what kin give you de bes' 
advice on de subjic’ er matrimony/' said Viney to Uncle 
Peter — “dem what ain’t neveh been in hit yit, an’ dem 
what’s been in an’ done got out. De ones what am in de 
thick er hit mos’ gen’ally keeps dey moufs shet an’ lets 
de oders do de talkin’. Leas’ways, dats what I has 
always observated.” 

“How come you speakin’ ’bout matrimony?” asked 
Uncle Peter as he shifted his position on the steps of 
the cabin porch. 

“Ros’bel an’ de preacher gwine to git ma’ied dis 
fall. Dat‘s how come,” announced Viney. 

Uncle Peter looked up in surprise. 

“Who tor you so?” 

“Ros’bel tol’ me,” answered Viney.' 

“Well,” was Uncle Peter’s comment, “I knowed dey 
been keepin’ comp’ny long ’nough, but I didn’t know dey 
was imgaged.” 

“Who say dey’s imgaged?” demanded Viney with 
some asperity. 

“Why— why — ” stammered Uncle Peter confusedly. 
“Ain’t you jes’ been an’ said dat Ros’bel tol’ you her an’ 
de preacher gwine to git ma’ied dis fall?” 

“Dat’s what I said; but dat don’t mek ’em imgaged,. 
do hit?” 

“Oh! ’’Uncle Peter leaned back against the post 
once more. 

“Ros’bel was ovah heah yistiddy mawnin’,” contin- 
ued Viney, “axin’ my ’pinion ’bout hit. She say dat hit’s 
wuss wuk gittin’ de preacher up to de poppin’ point dan 
hit is to mek molasses run fas’ in wintertime; but she’s 
boun’ fo’ hit to happen soon er she’ll know de reason 
why. An’ dat’s how come her to set nex’ fall fo’ de 
weddin’. I has been wonderin’ ef she’s gittin’ hoi’ er de 
right pardner — not dat I got anythin’ ’gainst de preacher, 
but dey’s so many divo’cements dese days ’count er folks 
not bein’ affinacies wid each other. Co’se Ros’bel been 


39 


JfO 


On Matrimony 


gwine wid dat man long ’nough to fin’ out all ’bout his 
cha’cter an’ ef he’s gwine to mek de right kin’ er husban’ ; 
still, you can’t never tell, an’ dat’s what started me to 
thinkin’ ’bout de subjic’. 

“Evah sence de worl’ was cr’ated dey ain’t nothin’ 
what yo’ can’t name dat folks ain’t been an’ worked 
some kin’ er inprovediments on’ ’cep’in’ mat’imony. Ef 
Adam an’ Eve tuck a notion to go to town of a Sat’day 
dey jes’ up an footed hit twel dey got dere. Now’days 
dey’d take de ’lectric cahs. Ef Eve wanted to tell Cain 
an’ Abel dat her an’ de ol’ man was cornin’ ovah to take 
dinnah wid ’em nex’ Thu’sday dey live so fur away dat 
she’d have to tell ’em while dey was takin’ dinner wid 
’em las’ Thu’sday ef she want ’em to mek p’eparation fo’ 
’em. Now’days she’d call ’em up on de ’phome. Dat‘s de 
way hit is all along de line. 

“But wid mat’mony, hit’s been diffunt. De gal an’ 
de man what gits ma’ied dis mawnin’ ain’t no fu’- 
therways ’long in knowin’ how dat ma’iage gwine to 
tu’n out dan Gawge Wash’n’ton was in knowin’ ’bout de 
Newnited States when he sot out in a ship fo’ to ’skiver 
’em. 

“De smahtes’ man an’ ’ooman in de country kin 
git j’ined an’ have nothin’ but de wussest kind er mizry; 
an’ on de other han’, de two bigges’ fools dat de Lawd 
evah made kin marry an’ git ’long lak a pair er turkey 
doves. Dat’s de queer part of hit all! 

“Two folkses kin go ’long wid each other yeah in an’ 
yeah out; an’ so long as de man don’t have to pay de 
rent an’ grocery bills an’ de ’ooman don’t have to ax him 
fo’ to do hit, dey ain’t nevah gwine to find out ’bout each 
other clean down to de roots. Hit takes livin’ undah de 
same roof an’ seein ’one anothah wid de comp’ny man- 
ners laid off to do dat. 

“Gunnel Slocum had a cousin livin’ heah befo’ Mis’ 
Fanny an’ him was ma’ied, by de name er Mis’ Clara 
Winters. She was a fine lookin’ young lady an’ ev’ybody 
thought a heap o’ her — specially Cap’n Bronson, one er de 
gen’l’men what b’long in Miss Clara’s set. De mos’ er 
Mis' Clara’s time was tuck up tendin’ to a imbalid ma — 
an’ a right down cranky one at dat, not wantin’ Mis’ 


Ow Matrimony 


U 


Clara to go nowheres er have de littles' mite er pleasure. 
Spite er dat, Cap’n Bronson an’ she was sweethearts ; an’ 
in ’tween times dey got a chancet to do dey co’tin’. De 
cap’n was plum foolish ’bout her an’ she ’bout him, but de 
ol’ lady was boun’ f o’ to keep dem two fum gittin’ ma’ied ; 
an’ whenevah dey brung up de subjic’ to her she’d git 
into one er her tantrums an’ holler dat hit would kill her 
to give up her daughter — no mattah ef Mis’ Clara an’ de 
cap’n promise her ovah an’ ovah agin dat dey’d stay right 
dere wid her after dey was ma’ied. She was so plum self- 
ish dat she wouldn’t give in, but jes’ kep on sayin’ dey 
would kill her ef dey talked ’bout hit. So, tho’ dey didn’t 
mention hit no mo’, hit was a sort er understandin’ ’tween 
’em dat after de ol’ lady’d drapped off dey’d go ’haid an 
ma’y — not dat Mis’ Clara was de kind to say a thing lak 
dat right smack out, but I reckon dat was what dey bofe 
was thinkin’ down in dey hearts, an’ hit didn’t need no 
words to spress hit. 

‘‘Eve’y Sunday aft’noon Cap’n Bronson’d turn in 
at de Winters’ gate; an’ he’d have a gre’t big bunch er 
flowers outen his own gyarden fo’ Mis’ Clara, ef hit was 
in de summertime. Den, by-an’-by, you’d see dem two 
come outen de gate — an’ a fine-lookin’ couple dey was ! — 
an’ walk on out to de graveyahd, where dey’d set down 
under de trees an’ he’d read out loud to her fum a book 
or else dey’d jes’ set ’longside er each othah — not sayin’ 
nothin’ but jes’ settin’ quiet an’ peaceful-lak. 

“Fo’ eighteen yeahs dem two was imgaged. Eve’y 
yeah folks would say: ‘De ol’ lady cain’t las’ twel spring, 
an’ when she goes dem two’ll have a weddin’.’ But, 
bless yo’ life, hit look lak she was jes’ keepin’ alive fo’ 
spite to p’vent dat match; an’ as de yeahs went on Mis’ 
Clara’s hair commence to git all streaked up wid gray, an’ 
she look wo’ out an’ thin. 

“All things has to come to a en’, an’ one fine mawnin’ 
de news went roun’ dat ol’ Mis’ Winters had gone thoo 
de Big Gate. De fus’ thing eve’ybody say when dey 
hearn ’bout hit was: ‘Now dem two folks kin git ma’ied!’ 
An’ dat’s what dey done soon after, tho’ Mis’ Clara 
wanted to wait twel de yeah of mo’nin’ was ovah ; but de 
cap’n wouldn’t hear to hit. 


U2 


On Matrimony 


Now de curious part er de whole business is cornin'. 
Dem two lived together 'bout six months, when dey 
broke up housekeepin’. Cap’n Bronson went back to his 
bo'din’-house an’ Mis’ Clara tuck up in de cottage where 
she lived befo’ her ma died. A yeah after, dey got a 
divo’cement ’count er havin’ incapable tempahs — dat’s 
what I hearn Mis’ Fanny say was de cause of hit. No 
one nevah did know jes’ egzackly de trouble, ’cause dey 
was bofe so close-moufed ; but ef a bolt er lightning had 
struck de town, folks couldn’t ’a’ been mo’ s’prized when 
dem two busted up ! Heah was a man an’ a ’ooman what 
had knowed each othah goin’ on twenty yeahs an’ was 
imgaged eighteen outen de twenty; an’ ef any one had a 
chancet fo’ to find out ’bout de cha’cter of de other dem 
two suttenly had.” 

“So fur as I kin mek hit out, dey’s on’y one rule fo* 
to follow in mat’imony,” said Uncle Peter. 

“What’s de rule?” asked Viney. 

“Hit’s dis; Dat dey ain’t no rule!” 


Out On Bail 


*'Hit was de winter dat Sally Ann lef’ de Slocumses; 
an’ Mis’ Fanny was mighty nigh tuck down wid nervous 
prospection tryin’ to git aholt of a good cook,” said Vin- 
ey. “Two’ tuck sick on her, fo' of ’em married on her, 
three was hiahed away by some fr’en’s o’ her’n, an’ de- 
res’ o’ de lot was jes’ so nachully no ’count dat Mis’ Fan- 
ny turned ‘em loose quicker’n a red-hot poker. 

“Ef hit hadn’ ’a’ been dat Buddy was laid up at de- 
time wid a spell o’ fever I could ’a’ stayed wid her reg- 
’lar; but, as hit was, all I could do was to help her out, 
now an’ den. 

“One evenin’ Gunnel Slocum brung a fr’en’ o’ his’n 
— a jedge — home wid him; an’ whiles dey was settin’ 
roun’ de table after supper confabbin’ ’bout dis an’ dat — 
I was cl’arin’ de dishes off de table — de talk turned on. 
Mis’ Fanny’s troubles. 

“ ‘Ef I could git a good cook fo’ Fanny,’ says de Gun- 
nel, T’d be willin’ to pay mos’ any price, even if I had 
to hiah her right outen de debil’s kitchen an’ nail her- 
shoes to de flo’ to keep her here.’ 

“De jedge chuckled. ‘You won’t have to go dat far,’’ 
says he; ‘fo’ right oveh heah at de county jail is a cook, 
what could win a passpo’t into Heaven if Saint Peter 
would stop takin’ in tickets long enough to eat a meal o’^ 
her’n.’ 

“‘At de county jail!’ says bofe Mis’ Fanny an’ de; 
Gunnel. ‘Does you mean she’s hiahed to cook fo’ demi 
prisonters?’ 

“ ‘Hiahed nothin!’ says de jedge. ‘She belongs dere; 
’cause she was tuck dere by de police. De way she hap- 
pen to come in my haid, she was brung up befo’ me las’* 
week charged wid slashin’ up a coon till his face looked 
like a railroad map. De minit I clapt eyes on her I says 
to myself, “I’s seen dat niggah befo’,” an’ ’twasn’t long- 
till I placed her. She tole me dat she come to town on a 
scursion train, lookin’ fo’ a beau o’ her’n an’ a yaller gal; 
an’ dat she’d carved up de man — an’ now she’s keepin’* 


43 


u 


Out on Bail 


annuder razor sharp fo’ de gal. De police what ’rested 
her said she was so full o’ whisky when he ran ’crost her 
dat de word “drunk” would ’a’ looked sober ’longside o’ 
her.- “Whar is you fum?” I says to her. “Marietta, 
Georgy,” says she; an den hit come back to me whar I 
seen her. Hit was down at de hotel whar I always stops 
when I’s passin’ thoo dere; an’ dey’s a i)uddin’ what dat 
niggah cooks called de Gin’l Lee puddin’ what makes a 
man feel like Adam mus’ ’a’ felt in de Gyarden of Edom 
befo’ de fall. “Why, you’s Katie Belle!” says I; an’ wid 
dat she let out a joy whoop an’ mighty nigh fell on my 
neck. Rememberin’ de puddin’, I come near forgittin’ I 
was a jedge; but de law has to be uphel’, an’ dat’s how 
•come she's in jail, waitin' fo' some one to bail her out.' 

“Dey was a dead silence for a minute. ‘What’s de 
amount?' says Gunnel Slocum by-an'-by, sorter thought- 
ful like. 

“ ‘Ten dollahs,' says de jedge. 

“ ‘Well, by ginger, Fanny,' says de Gunnel, slammin' 
liis fis' down on de table hard, ‘I’m gwine to bail dat nig- 
gah out er jail an’ bring her up heah to cook, an’ de fus' 
pop out er de box dat she makes fo’ to leave I’ll clap her 
back into jail again — or, leasways, I’ll tell her I’m a- 
gwine to. We’ll see how dat wuks. So dis week she 
stahts in cookin’ fo’ de Slocum fam’ly, an' nex’ Sunday 
we’ll have de jedge up heah fo’ dinnah to eat some Gin’l 
Lee puddin'!’ — an’ de Gunnel give de jedge a monst’us 
wink. 

“Miss Fanny j’ined in de laff dat followed, sorter 
weaklike. ‘Well,’ she says, ‘I reckon I been a failure in 
•de cook-gittin’ line long enough ; so we’ll see how de Gun- 
nel’s luck runs.' 

“Dat was on a Ghuesday. Wednesday aft’noon, whiles 
I was wipin' up de kitchen flo’, I hears a noise on de back 
po’ch — blom! blom! — like as if a stove was walkin' up 
de steps. Dey was a knock at de do’ an’ when I open hit 
dere stan's de blackes’, fattes’ coon ’ooman what ever I 
sot eyes on. ‘Aft’noon,' says she in de littles’ squeaky 
voice. ‘Aft’noon,’ says 1. ‘I’s de new cook what Gunnel 
Slocum sent up heah,' says she, an’ wid dat she walks in 
de kitchen and takes a cheer. She was so fat dat she 


Out on Bail 


if 

look like she was standin’ up when she was settin’ down. 
I went after Mis’ Fanny an’ pretty soon she come down 
in de kitchen. 

“ ‘Howdy-do?’ says Mis’ Fanny, politelike, as all de 
quality is. ‘Viney tells me dat you is de new cook.’ An’ 
she smile pleasantly. 

“ ‘Yes’m,’ says de new gal, risin’ up an’ speakin’ in 
dat little bitsy voice o’ her’n. ‘My name’s Katie Belle; 
an’ I hopes I can suit you.’ 

“ ‘Co’se,’ says Mis’ Fanny, lookin’ at her straight 
in de eye, ‘you unstan’s de ’greement what Gunnel Slocum 
made wid you?’ 

“‘Yes, ma’am,’ ’spon’s Katie Belle, ‘I does dat; an’ 
fo’ Gawd, Mis’ Slocum, you-all ai’nt gwine to have no 
cause to send me back to de calaboose. I’s done refawmed, 
I has ; an’ de debil ain’t a-goin’ to git no chance to claim 
me no mo’.’ 

“ ‘Well, I tuck her an’ showed her whar de things 
was, so’s she could staht in gittin’ supper; an’ she set 
right to work. 

“ ‘I disremembers what all she cooked dat night, but 
I does remember dat when de fam’ly got up fum de 
table dey had eat so much dat dey all looked sorter swoll 
up an’ pustylike; an’ no one cared ’bout doin’ much mo’n 
jes’ settin’ roun’. 

“Dat was de beginnin’ of a happy time fo’ Mis’ Fan- 
ny, an’ in a little while all her fren’s commence bearin’ 
’bout hit. I reckon dey’d mos’ give dey haids to git Katie 
Belle away fum de Slocumses, but dis time de Gunnel 
had got hit fixed so dat dey couldn’t play no such trick. 

“He went roun’ grinnin’ like a chessy-cat at his fo’- 
sightedness an’ Mis’ Fanny wo’ a peaceful look, like a 
pusson what’s jes’ come thoo at revival services. Some- 
liow dey was an air ’bout de whole place like de fam’ly 
had come to de Ian’ o’ Ganaan. Dey wasn’t sca’cely a 
meal dat dey didn’t have half a dozen extrys at de table. 

“Things was goin’ on as slick as glass an’ Thanks- 
givin’ was ’bout a week off, when Miss May adbertise her 
imgagement in de papers — an’ dey was plannin’ fo’ a 
big dinner an’ a, dance afterward on Thanksgivin’ night. 


Out on Bail 




All o’ de special fr’en’s was invited to de dinner an’ de 
nnspecials was invited fo’ later in de evenin’. 

“Katie Belle was give full cha’ge o’ de program fo' 
•de meal ; an’ ef she didn’t weah out de groc’ry boys, trot- 
tin’ back an’ fo’th bringin’ stuff, hit wasn’t her fault. 
Early Monday mawnin’ she begin cookin’ ; an’ fo’ de res' 
•o’ de time no one couldn’t sca’cely git a word out o’ her. 
:She jes’ stalked roun’ in de kitchen measurin’ an’ makin' 
up things — an’ Mis’ Fanny an’ dem kep’ out o’ her way 
an’ let her have de full swing o’ dat program, ’cause dey 
knowed she was equal to hit. 

“ 'When de big day come Mis’ Fanny an’ de gals 
dress up de dinin’ room table wid all sorts er doin’s an' 
“declarations, like white folks gin’ally does, till hit looked 
like a picture in a book ; an’ den everybody went upstairs 
to fix deyselves up fo’ de party. 

“I got myself ready to deceive de guests at de front 
-do’ an’ take keer o’ de ladies’ wraps an’ b’longin’s. Isom 
was hiahed fo’ to take keer o’ de gen’l’men’s. Dey was 
fo’ waiters from de hotel, three to ten’ to de servin’ an' 
one to po’ out de drinkables; an’ all Katie Belle had to 
ten’ to was to git de food ready to pass hit on to de wait- 
ers as dey’d come in de kitchen fo’ hit. 

“Whiles de fam’ly was upstairs dressin’ an’ Gunnel 
Slocum was hollerin’ like he always do — 'Who’s been an' 
tuck my shirtstuds fum de place whar I laid ’em down?’ 
— an’ Mis’ Fanny findin’^’em right under his nose, like 
she always do, I steps out in de kitchen to see everything. 

“Katie Belle was puttin’ de finishin’ touches to some 
salad an’ she ain’t even ’spon’ to me when I say how fine 
de vittles look. Dere sot de turkey as big as you please, 
lookin’ like he was jes’ achin’ to be et. One of de waiters 
had jes’ come, an’ as de kitchen look lak hit was gittin' 
sorter scrowged up, what wid de food an’ de buckets o' 
ice settin’ roun’, wid de wine an’ stuff coolin’ in em’ an' 
Katie Belle a-takin up some room herself, I went into de 
house. 

“Hit wasn’t long fo’ de fam’ly come downstairs an' 
de folks begin to come; an’ pretty soon dey was all 
seated at de table. 

“Everybody was plaguin’ Miss May, who was looki^' 


Out on Bail 


U7 


as sweet as a peach an’ blushin’ lak a rose. ^ Mistah Rob- 
ert was pow’ful pleased at de jokin’ an goin’ on, an’ every 
oncet in a while I seen him squeeze Miss May’s han’ 
under de table — I was watchin’ de party fum de second 
landin’ on de hall stairs. 

“De waiters had gone out to bring in de sec’n’ co’se 
an’ hit look like to me dey was a-takin’ a pow’ful long 
time to bring hit in. I notice a worrited look on Mis' 
Fanny’s face an’ she pressed de buzz under de table 
three or fo’ times ; but dey ain’t no one come. Den I seen 
her lean over an’ say somthin’ to de Gunnel. None o’ de 
guestes seem to know anythin’ was out er de way, ’cause 
dey was all enjoying deyselves — or, leastways, ef dey 
did dey wouldn’t ’a’ let on. Mis’ Fanny press de buzz 
once mo’. No answer. Den she looked at de Gunnel. He 
was settin’ nearest to de swingin’ do’; an’ at dat he riz 
up an’ stahted fo’ de kitchen. 

“I seen him lay his han’ on de do’ to push hit back — 
when bang! crash! — de terribles’ racket an’ screamin’ 
come thoo, like as if a thousand debils was tryin’ to 
jump down one anodder’s th’oats. 

“Every one at de table jump to dey feet an’ de young 
ladies begin to scream. Bang! bang! hit went on in de 
kitchen an’ dem coon waiters back dere hollerin’ at de 
top o’ dey lungs to ‘Don’t kill ’em!’ an’ to ‘Look out!’ An’ 
what wid de yellin’ an’ de crashin’ o’ glass an’ sich, hit 
was a wuss hullabaloo dan a crazy house. De Gunnel 
stahted fo de kitchen do’ an’ Mis’ Fanny try to pull him 
back by de coattails. He broke loose fum her finally an’ 
de whole pile o’ gen’l’men rushed in after him. 

“Dere stood Katie Belle in de middle o’ de kitchen 
flo’, whoopin’ like a Injun, wid a razor in each han’. She 
had broke into de drinkables an’ busted thoo her bail, an’ 
what was lef’ o’ de wine wouldn’t ’a’ drownded a flea 
comfor’ble. Ovah in a cornder on de far side o’ de kit- 
chen, awey fum de do’, was de fo’ waiters, an’ every time 
she’d wave one o’ dem razors de whole gang would holler 
‘Murder!’ 

“De sight sorter froze Gunnel Slocum an’ dem up 
stiff an’ fo’ a minute hit look lak everybody got pa’lyzed. 
De suddent entrance o’ de gen’l’men had de same effec’ on 


Out on Bail 


^8 


Katie Belle, but she come to befo’ dey did. As quick as a 
flash she made a dive fo' dem white folks an’ dey all fell 
back into de dinin’ room like dey was dat many ninepins. 
No sooner had she got dem off de fiel’ dan she made fo’ 
de waiters again, as we could tell fum de yellin’ what 
opened up oncet mo’. 

“Mr. Robert was de fus’ one to pull hisse’f loose fum 
de bunch on de flo’ ; an’ wid Miss May screamin’ fo’ him 
to come back he rush fo’ de kitchen. He ain’t no mo’ 
dan push de do’ open when — blap! — a tomato chuckfull 
o’ yaller dressin’ caught him on de nose an’ ran down 
all over his fine clothes. He swo’ sumpin’ ter’ble an’ 
open de do’ again. Kerblam! Dis time a wine bottle 
come thoo, jes’ missin’ him by a inch an’ knockin’ ovah 
one o’ Miss Fanny’s fine vases on de mantel. At dat Mr. 
Robert gritted his teef an’ pickin’ up one er de dinin’ 
room cheers, he knocked back de do’ an’ stahted fo’ Katie 
Belle in de deades’ earnes’ what I ever sot eyes on. 

“I has been to some parties myself where dey was 
a fight or two, but dey couldn’t none of ’em hoi’ a candle 
to dis. While Mr. Robert was tryin’ to distrack her 
’tention an’ git aholt o’ dem razors by reachin’ fo’ her 
haid wid de cheer, de other gen’l’men run roun’ to de 
back windows an’ fix fo’ to git her fum de rear; but 
dat coon was ready fo’ ’em. De fus’ one dat clum up in 
de window, she reach fo’ de turkey an’ give it to him in 
de face so hahd dat hit knocked de ambition plum’ outen 
him an’ he drapped down. While she was flingin’ vittles 
at de ones tryin to come thoo de window, she was holdin’ 
Mr. Robert off on de other side; an’ de way dat kitchen 
an’ dem folks was gormed up wid good food was a sight 
to make de angels weep. 

“While de fracas was a-goin’ on, an’ nobody seem 
able to lay a han’ on Katie Belle, a idea come over me 
dat I says I’ll try. 

“Ef she got in dat fix ’count er drinkin’, maybe de 
thing would he’p us to git a-holt o’ her ; an’ widout axin’ 
Mis’ Fanny any questions, I runs upstairs to de Gunnel’s 
closet, where I knows he always keeps a bottle er brandy 
’cause I is always in de habit o’ takin’ jes’ a little tas’e 
when I’s cleanin’ up an’ Mis’ Fanny an’ dem ain’t lookin’. 


Out on Bail 


h9 


“Sho’ ’nough, v/hen I opens de do’, dere stan’s de bot- 
tle on de shelf. I jes’ tuck a little tas’e to make sure be- 
fo’ I tuck hit downstairs, an’ den I run fo’ de kitchen as 
fas’ as my laigs would tote me. Dey was a awful scream- 
in’ fum de ladies when dey seen me run up in front o’ 
Katie Belle, but I didn’t stop at dat. I jes’ stepped right 
up in front o’ her an’ helt de bottle up to her. Down come 
dat coon’s ban’s, de razors draps to de flo’ an’ she grabbed 
fo’ dat bottle like greased lightnin’. 

“Dat was when de fight come to a end. Fo’ den dey 
all closed in on her an’ after dat hit wasn’t long befo’ de 
police come an’ tuck her back to de county jail. Hit 
was wuss dan movin’ a piano, but dey finally got her out 
and peace come down on de house. De guestes was dat 
v/eak an’ outdid dat no one wanted to move fo’ a while; 
an’ by-an’-by de gen’l’men an’ ladies got to work to he’p 
clean up some er de mess. 

“Every one patted me on de back; an’ when I got 
home dat night an’ counted up what dey all give me I 
had enough to finish payin’ fo’ de organ what I got orr de 
installment plan. 

“Hit tuck us a week to clean up de mess an’ a longer 
time dan dat fo’ de ladies nerves to git straighten’ out. 
I notice dat de Gunnel ain’t never been so spry since dat 
time ’bout monkeyin’ in Mis’ Fanny’s household busi- 
ness; an’ Katie Belle’s still a-waitin’ in de county jail 
fo’ some one to bail her out again.” 


Rechristening Cornell. 


“Cornell Un’vers’ty Jackson — dat was his name,” 
said Viney. “Wher’d Lindy git hit? Well, hit was up 
at her white folks’ — de Buffo’dses — dat she runned ’crost 
hit. Her an’ Alec had been scrappin’ fo’ ’bout two months 
what dey was gwine to name de baby, an’ hit look lak dey 
jes’ couldn’ come to no ’greement. Alec wanted to name 
him one er de good ol’ Bible names like Toleom er Jossy- 
way er Gawge Wash’n’ton; but Lindy had her mind 
set on callin’ him somep’n stylishlike an’ up to date. As 
fo’ me, I disadmiahs dese newfangled names; but my 
’pinion wasn’t axed. 

“Fum what Lindy say, de oldes’ Buffo’d boy was 
gwine ’way up No’th fo’ de puppose er gittin’ some 
branches what he couldn’ git at home. Sounds plum 
foolish, don’ hit? An’ I tol’ Lindy she mus’ a got dat 
crooked, ’cause what in de name er kingdom come would 
he have to go ’way to git branches fo’ — an’ all dem trees 
on Majah Bulfo’d’s prop’ty? Dey is some^doin’s of white 
folks dat I ain’t p’tendin’ to un’erstan’, an dis one was 
one er de misun’erstandable ones. 

“Lindy say dat, in all de talkin, what was goin’ 
on befo’ de young man -vyent away, dey was one name 
she hearn ’em call a heap er times what sounded so tony 
an’ dif’unt fum any she evah knowed of dat she got Ma- 
jah Buffo’d to write hit down on a piece er paper. ‘What 
you gwine to do wid hit, Lindy?’ say de majah, after he 
done writ hit an’ give hit to her. ‘I’s gwine to tack dat 
name on to Jackson,’ say Lindy, ‘an’ give it to de baby!’ 
So dat’s how come him to have hit. Alec kicked a mighty 
heap ; but Lindy had her min’ set — an‘ de name stuck. 

“He was a puny li’l niggah ; an’ hit’s my ’pinion dat 
he wa’n’t nachully dat-away, but dat hit was a punish- 
ment on Lindy fo’ ’posin’ herself to Alec ’bout not want- 
in’ no Bible name. ’Count er him bein’ sickly twel he was 
’bout five yeahs ol’, Lindy nevah would lay a han’ on him ; 
an’ when he did git strong ’nough to take a good dressin’ 
down, Cornell had Lindy right under his thumbnail wid 


50 


Rechristening Cornell 


51 


a trick er his of screamin’ like he was bein’ killed no \ 
sooner’n she’d lif’ up her han’. An’ steal! Why ev’y 1 
time dat niggah’d bat his eyelids somep’n would fly up / 
under ’em. 

“De fus’ time she caught Cornell at some er his 
tricks was when he went roun’ to folks’es houses one 
Sunday mawnin’ an’ tuck de newspapers outen dey yahds 
fo’ any one was up, an’ den toted ’em in town an’ sold 
’em. Den, again, he coaxed Gunnel Slocum’ses brown 
water-spaniard dog out in de yahd, an’, after paintin’ 
de dog black wid a bottle er shoe polish, sold him to a 
man ’crost de river fo’ a dollah. Hit was jes’ one thing an’ 
den another. 

“One mawnin’ I stopped by to see Lindy, an’ I foun’ 
huh all wukked up an’ mad ’bout somethin’. Hit seem 
dat Cornell had drapped a half dollah outen his pants 
pocket on to de flo’ ; an’ hit tuck Lindy nearly a hour to 
worm outen him whar hit come fum. Bimeby she got a 
holt er de trufe. Majah Buffo’d had give Cornell one er 
his vestes to take home an’ have hit pressed, an’ Cornell 
had rummaged roun’ in de ves, an’ foun’ de piece er mon- 
ey in one er de pockets. 

“ ‘I tol’ Cornell,’ say Lindy, ‘dat I had a good notion 
to have him soapeened to co’t fo’ takin’ dat money. I 
went out in de yahd an’ broke off a good, strong switch, 
while Sally Ann belt dat young un. Dey’s a time fo’ 
Scriptures an’ a time fo’ hick’ry limbs; an’ one of ’em 
hadn’t fetched him, so hit was de other one’s tu’n. I 
whupped dat boy twel my ahms ached, fus wid one han’ 
an’ den wid de other; an’ when I was plum wo’ out, an’ 
him howlin’ an’ snifflin, I say : “You’s a-gwine to take dis 
heah piece er money on up to Majah Buffo’d dis aft’noon, 
’cause he’ll be home den; an’ you’s a-gwine to tell him 
how come you wid it — does you heah me?” “Yes’m,” 
say Cornell. ‘Does you b’lieve dat he’s gwine to do hit?’ 

I says to Lindy when she tol’ me all dat. Well,’ says Lin- 
dy, ‘dey ain’t nothin’ lak tryin’.’ 

“Dat aft’noon Miss Fanny sent me ovah to de 
Buffo’dses wid a bokay of flowers in honah of Miss May 
an’ Mistah Robert Buffo’d, as dey was ’spected home 
dat evenin’ fum dey bridal tare. Miss Buffo’d sent me 


52 


Rechristening Cornell 


in de hall wid ’em to put ’em in de big vase on de table; 
an’ while I was standin’ dere fixin’ de flowers who does 
I see thoo de window but Cornell, cornin’ up de walk. 
De majah was settin’ on de po’ch in one er de big rock- 
ers ; an’ when he seen Cornell I heerd him call out, ‘Good 
aft’noon, Cornell Un’vers’ty. What kin I do fo’ you dis 
aft’noon?’ — teasin’like, as Majah Buffo’d always is. 
Cornell tuck off his cap an’ come up de steps on de po’ch. 
‘I jes’ thought I’d stop in an’ see ef you-all is got any 
kin’ er wuk you-all wants me to do fo’ yo,’ says Cornell, 
sorter stammerin’ an’ twistin’ his cap roun’ in his ban’s. 
‘Not today,’ say de majah; ‘but I mought have somethin' 
fo’ you to do nex’ week.’ Cornell was flshin’ down in 
his pocket by dat time, an’ pretty soon he brung up de 
half dollah. ‘Majah Buffo’d,’ says he, ‘you kin have dis I' 
An’ wid dat, he helt out de money to de majah. Majah 
Buffo’d look pow’ful ’stonished fo’ a minute, an’ den he 
slap his knee an’ set back in his cheer an’ laugh an' 
laugh. ‘What fo’ you reckon I wants wid yo’ money, 
Cornell ’?he ask. ‘I don’ know, say’ Cornell; ‘but I jes* 
thought I’d give hit to you.’ De majah stop laughin' 
all of a suddint an’ straighten’ up, lookin Cornell in de 
eye hahd. ‘Cornell Un’vers’ty, you’s been an’ stole dat 
money!’ he say, jes’ lak dat. ‘Yes, suh,’ say Cornell, wid- 
out blinkin’ a eye. ‘Does you want hit, Majah Buffo’d?' 
At dat, Majah Buffo’d reach ovah an’ grab Cornell by 
de shoulder. ‘You young rapscallion!’ he say; ‘you 
knows I don’t want dat money. Who did you steal hit 
fum?’ ‘Fum a white man,’ say Cornell. ‘When?’ ask de 
majah, sharp and short. ‘Dis mawnin’,’ say Cornell. ‘Den 
you take dat piece er money an’ give hit back to de man 
what you stoled it fum,‘ de majah tol’ him. ‘Dat’s what 
I done dis aft’noon,’ say Cornell, lookin’ him right square 
in de eye; ‘I tuck hit back an’ offer hit to him an’ he 

wouldn’t tek hit.’ 

At dat de majah let loose er Cornell an’ set back in his 
cheer. ‘Well,’ says he, ‘ef dat’s de case, why, dey ain’t 
nothin’ mo’ to be said. An heah’s a dime fo’ you, ’cause 
you’s done been an’ confessed yo’ sin. Hit shows dat 
you’s got back on de right road, even ef you did git side- 


Rechristening Cornell 


53 


tracked/ Thanky, suh!' say Cornell; an puttin’ de mon- 
ey in his pocket he lit out. 

'‘I say to myse’f ; ‘I hates to mix in an’ carry tales ; 
but ef ’twas one er my chillen, an’ Lindy knowed ’bout 
hit, I’d thank her fo’ tellin’ me.’ An’ as soon as I could 
I went right on down to Lindy ’s. No sooner ’n I had got 
in de room dan Lindy say; ‘Viney, what you reckon? 
Cornell went right on up to Buifo’ds’ lak I tol’ him, an’ 
Majah Buffo’d say fo’ him to keep de money, an’ give him 
a dime besides, fo’ bein’ hones’ ’bout hit!’ Dat was 
one drap in de bucket too much fo’ me, an’ after ’sputin’ 
wid myse’f some I jes’ up an’ tol’ Lindy de straight of 
hit. At fus, Lindy jes’ lost her tongue. Den she say: 
^Viney, de debil has got holt er dat boy sho’ ’nOugh, an' 
no mistake. I’s afeard I has got plum to de end of de 
string wid him. Seems to me dat maybe hit’s a jedg- 
ment on me ’count er de name I give him — ’cause he ain’t 
no mo’ lak de other chillen den ef he wa’n’t no kin to 
’em. 

“ ‘Lindy,’ say I, ‘you has tried de Scriptures an’ you 
has tried spoilin’ sev’al rods on dat boy, an’ hit’s time to 
try somethin’ else. Ef you has de idea dat de name you 
give him got him stahted off wrong why don’t you give 
him a new one?’ 

“Lindy ran out in de yahd, got Cornell an’ drug 
him on up to de Buffo’ds’es an’ tol’ ’em de whole thing 
fum staht to finish. 

“ ‘Now,’ say de majah when hit was all tol’, ‘I 
gathers dat what you wants to do is to name dis boy 
ovah, so as to give him a new staht — an’ you wants de 
name to be outen de Bible.’ ‘Yes, suh,’ say Lindy; ‘I 
wants hit to be a Bible name dis time.’ Fo’ a minute 
Majah Buffo’d look lak he was searchin’ roun’ in his 
haid to think er somethin’. Den he say: ‘Call him 
Beelzebub!’ ‘Is hit a sho’nuff Bible name?’ ask Lindy. 
‘Dat’s what hit am,’ say de majah. ‘Den dat’s what 
he’ll be named,’ say Lindy, ‘an’ we’ll call him Bub fo’ 
short.’ 

“An dat’s how come de rechristenin’ of Cornell.” 


Rockbottom and 

Miss Sally Baker. 


“De othah night, while I wuz waitin’ on de table,'' 
said Viney, “Gunnel Slocum wuz talkin’ ’bout a p’fessor 
fum ovah de sea whut come heah to mek a book ’bout de 
Newnited States. He wuz visitin’ to fin’ out how much 
wusser we am dan de folks whar he come fum; an’ 
’cordin’ to whut he seed an’ observated heah, he say 
dat dis country am hxin’ fo’ to blow up an’ bust befo' 
many yeahs am out — jes’ lak his town did oncet.” 

Uncle Peter hitched nearer. 

“Whar’d he come fum?” he inquired interestedly. 

“Gunnel Slocum say he come fum Rome.” 

“Rome — Rome!” repeated Uncle .Peter. “Why Rome 
ain’t ’crost de sea! Rome’s a piece down de rai’road 
fum heah. I knows, fo’ Ise been to Rome mahse’f.” 

“Go’se, Uncle Petah,” said Viney scornfully, “you 
cain’t be spected to know ev’ything. De Rome whut dis 
heah p’fessor come fum wuz name’ after Rome, Georgy." 

Uncle Peter was silenced. 

“Anyhow,” continued Viney, “when I lef’ de Slo- 
cums’s dat night de combersation got to goin’ roun’ in 
my min’ ; an’ seem’ to me ef dis heah country do blow up 
an’ bust, hit’s gwine to be ’cause folks has so much did 
fo’ ’em now’days dat dey’s got too much time to think 
’bout deyselfs. Go’se folks lak you an’ me. Uncle Petah, 
don’ come under de haid Ise speakin’ of. We’s got to> 
keep scratch in’ ef we wants to keep meat on ouah bones, 
let alone in de pot. I has in min’ de well-off white 
folks, whut don’ no mo’ have to worry ’bout whar dey 
livin’s cornin’ fum dan you an’ me worry ’bout drawin' 
ouah nex’ breff. 

“Bern’s de folks whut stops to listen whut am goin' 
on in dey min‘ ev’y minute. 

“Dis heah life’s a cur’ous thing! De good Lawdi 
knowed whut He was doin’ when He give Adam his 
walkin’ papers outen de Gyarden of Edom. Hadn’t dat 

54 


Rockbottom and Miss Sally Baker 


55 


happen when hit did, ev’y snake in de place would 
tuck up de job o’ strippin’ apple trees to he’p him an’ 
Eve pass de time. So when Adam tuk his belongin’s 
an’ got to wuk, hit twuz a blessin’ to him. He could set 
back in his cheer of a evenin’, while Eve done de darnin’ 
an’ think ’bout dem days, lak all o’ us does ; but down in 
his haht he knowed de Gyarden wouldn’ ’a’ done as a 
reg’lar job! 

“De way things is in dis worl’ ’minds me of a man 
whut’s walkin’ on de aidge er a steep place: Ef he feels 
his laigs gittin’ wabbly he mustn’t stop an’ watch his 
knees trimble, an’ holler: ‘Lawd, have mussy on my po’ 
no-’count soul!’ Dat kin’ er doin’s ain’t gwine to fetch 
him nowhahs ’cep’n’ down in de ditch. Ef he spec’s to 
git pas’ de bad places on dat road an’ reach whar he’s 
boun’ fo’, he’ll have to tek his eyes offen himse’f an’ fix 
’em on de evahlastin’ hills ’way off yondah. 

“Hit use’ to be dat de white ladies in dis town could 
raise dey famblies an’ run big houses an’ plan’ations too 
— some of ’em; an’ when I says run ’em an’ raise ’em, 
hit meant fum de groun’ up. 

“Tek Mis’ Fanny, fo’ ninstance. Hadn’t de wah 
come erlong an’ spilt mos’ er her pappy’s money, an’ 
some er his blood, she’d ’a’ been mistis er one er de big- 
ges’ plan’ations in dese pahts. An’ she wuz bein’ brung 
up so dey wa’n’t nothin’ in de housekeepin’ line whut she 
couldn’t tu’n in an’ do, ef she’d ’a’ wanted to. 

“Hit wa’n’t no disgrace fo’ her to mek her own 
dresses, or come down in de kitchen an’ bake a batch 
er bread, or put up p’serbs. In dem days a lady jes’ 
nachully learnt how to do dem things. 

“Now tek de presen’ gingeration an’ look at de diff- 
’unce! How many of ’em mek dey own clothes or know 
how to sew a stitch? Dey goes an’ gits dey dresses 
made by a modest — or whutever Mis’ Fanny calls hit — 
though de goodness knows dat de way ladies dresses 
looks now’days, dey ain’t no sense in dat name. Dey 
don’ have to stay home an’ look aftah de cookin’, ’cause 
dey puts de food in one o’ dese heah fatherless cookers 
I heern ’bout. Dey buys soup put up in cubebs — er 


56 


Rockbottom and Miss Sally Baker 


whutevah hit’s called. Dey houses am cleaned by a 
whack-’em cleaner whut sucks de dus’ all up in a bunch. 
’Stid er gittin’ de reg’lar kin’ er man to ten’ to de yahd, 
dey gits a land-escape gahdner. Dey has dey fren’s by 
’lectricity, so’s dey kin hang up de telephome when dey 
gits tiahed of ’em. An’ dat’s de way hit goes. Folks is 
gittin’ smahter an’ smahter; but, IJncle Petah, I’ll tell 
yo’ whut — dey ain’t no happier! 

“S’posin’ sumpin come erlong lak de Flood an’ swep’ 
all dese newfangled doin’s off de yearth, an’ people wuz 
lef’ lak dey stahted aftah de Ark run aground — ^jes’ 
nothin’ to git erlong wid ’cep’n’ dey ban’s an’ de sweat 
o’ dey brows! Pretty soon aftah de fus’ confusement 
had pass’ away de men’d begin to cut down trees an’ 
mek a clearin’ fo’ plantin’; de women’d begin mekin’ a 
fiah fo’ to cook some vittles ’gin de hawn blow fo’ twleve 
’clock; an’ de chillen’d be splittin’ up kin’lin’ wood an’ 
totin’ watah — an’ ev’ybody’d be singin’ while dey went 
’bout dey wuk. No room fo’ nuvvus prosperation in dem 
days. Dey wa’n’t nothin’ dat pa’goric or calomel 
couldn’ cure. 

“Now’days hit’s diff’unt. Looks lak mos’ ev’y white 
lady I wuks fo’ am got de nuwus prosperation, or done 
been had hit — or am on de way to gittin‘ hit. An’ de 
cur’ous thing ’bout hit am dat no sooner do dey git a li’l’ 
way ’long in de disease dan heah come a trip to New 
Yahk or ’crost de sea. 

“Heah’s Mistah Bob Poindextah’s wife li’ble to be 
tuk down wid hit any minute. Heah’s Mis’ Fanny’s 
ma’ied daughter jes’ gittin’ ovah hit. Heah’s Mistah 
Frank Buffo’ds’s wife gone to a cemetarium to git huh 
health back, ’cause she’s plum wo’ out fum too much 
ease. Heah’s Cap’n Little’s wife takin’ de res’ cure up 
in de mountains, though whut she’s restin’ fum de 
Lawd only knows ! I hearn huh sister tellin’ Mis’ Fanny 
whut-all she have to do in de place whar she wuz at; an’ 
fum whut I could mek out hit wuz de busiest way er 
restin’ I ever hearn tell of ! She have to git up at six in 
de mawnin’ an’ tek a walk; den she come back an’ have 
a hot an’ col’ baff ; den a woman come an’ rub messages 


Rockbottom and Miss Sally Baker 


57 


on to huh spine ; den dey ’lows her to eat an’ res’ a spell ; 
den she gits up an’ teks some sort er breathin’ extra- 
sizes an’ another walk — an’ dat’s de way hit goes twel 
time to crawl in bed! 

“Dey’s on’y one thing dat’s gwine to bring ’em all 
to dey senses, an’ hit’s de thing whut happen’ to Mis’ 
Sally Baker.” 

“Whut am dat?” questioned Uncle Peter. 

“Rockbottom!” said Viney sententiously. “Rock- 
bottom! Hit’d be de savin’ o’ de quality an’ de bustin’ 
up o’ mo’ cemetariums dan you could shake a stick at!” 
She cleared her throat. 

“Mistah Tom Baker wuz whut you call land-po’. 
When Gen’l Baker died he lef’ a track o’ Ian’ to Mistah 
Tom whut wuz ’crost de rivah, an’ run fum de rivah 
aidge clean ’way to nowhahs — hit twuz so big. De oP 
Gen’l belt on to hit twel his las breff; an’ folks use to 
joke ’bout de Baker prop’ty, ’cause dey thought hit 
wa’n’t much mo’n a breedin’ ground fo’ snakes an’ sich. 
Hit twuz fo’ yeahs aftah de ol’ gen’man died dat a 
cousin er Mistah Tom’s fum somewhahs or othah was 
pokin’ roun’ on de Ian’ rabbit huntin’, an’ ’skivered hit 
wuz full o’ coal. An’ a yeah later a comp’ny bought de 
track — all ’cep’n’ a ol’ fahmhouse an’ a piece roun’ hit — 
fo’ such a passel er money. Uncle Peter, dat I cain’t even 
trus’ to mw recomem’ry to call de ’mount. 

“Up twel den Mistah Tom hadn’ been even middlin’ 
well-to-do; but ez soon ez he sold dat prop’ty de fambly 
commence’ lettin’ out de tucks •in dey way er livin’ — 
an’ lettin’ ’em out so fas’ you could almos’ hyah de 
stitches breakin’! 

“De fus’ thing dey did wuz to sen’ fo’ a arkteck fum 
New Yawk ” 

“A whut?” queried Uncle Peter. 

“A arkteck! De fus’ man whut built wuz Noah, 
Uncle Petah. An’ he had to tek an’ buil’ de Ark. So 
dey's been callin’ de men whut buil’s houses arktecks 
€vah sence. Well, de Bakers dey put up de fines’ house 
whut dey could git put up. An’ when twuz finish’ dey 
wa’n’t nothin’ good nuff roun’ heah to go in hit. Dey 


58 


Rockbottom and Miss Sally Baker 


had to go traipsin’ ’way off yondah somewhahs fo’ de 
funnisher an’ cyarpets an’ sich. Den dey wuz one 
room in de place whut wuz give ovah to nothin’ but 
paintin’s ” 

“How come dey didn’ paint de othahs ef dey wuz so 
rich?” put in Uncle Peter. 

“Laws a mussy, Uncle Peter, hit’s pitchah-paintin’s 
I means, an’ not paint outen a paint pot! Dese heah 
wuz paintin’s dat Miss Sally Baker brung home fum huh 
travels, an’ cos’ a whole mint er money. Lindy Jackson 
say dat she hearn dey wuz done by somebody’s ol’ mars- 
ter, an’ dat wuz whut mek ’em so ’spensive. Seem lak 
to me ef I wuz so dead sot on havin’ a paintin’ ez dey 
wuz , I’d git one dat wuz done by a young marster whut 
had some stren’th to do de wuk plain — fo’ mos’ of ’em 
look sorter dingy to me. I wuz in de house one day 
while de fambly wuz off visitin’ — de housemaid tuck me 
through. ‘Heah’s de one whut cos’ de bigges’ sight er 
money,’ she says ; an’ she tuck me up in front er a paint- 
in’ dat wa’n’t nothin’ but de sun risin’I 

“ ‘Seem’ lak to me,’ says I, dat ef Mis’ Sally’d git 
up of a mawnin’ to see de sho-nuff sunrise, when a sof’ 
breeze am blowin’, an’ de birds twitterin’, an’ de dew am 
on de grass, she’d fin’ out sumpin’ what’d beat dis 
pitchah all hollow — an’ not have to pay no money out fo’ 
hit besides.’ ’Tween you an’ me. Uncle Peter, paintin’s 
lak dat ain’t fo’ no one but imbalids, whut cain’t go out 
an’ see de real thing ; ey f o’ a man whut’s been put in de 
calaboose fo’ life. Folks whut has two laigs to ca’y ’em 
out an’ roun’ ain’t got no need fo’ sich pitchahs. 

“Well, ez I wuz tellin’ you, de place wuz too gran’ 
fo’ wu’ds ; an’ ef dar wuz anything whut you wanted, an’ 
didn’ happen to see, you could git hit by jabbin’ a col- 
lahbutton stuck hind end fo’most in de wall. Jab one 
er ’em an’ de lights go on! Hit anodder an’ heah come 
one er de maids to fin’ out whut you call fo’, so’s she 
could bring hit right off! You’d figgah dat, ef evah 
folks had de chancet to be happy. Mis’ Sally Baker’d be 
in de front row er dat crowd ! All she had to do wuz jes’ 
to set roun’ an’ enjoy dat house. De chillen wa’n’t no 


Rockbottom and Miss Sally Baker 


59 


care on huh, fo’ dey had a guv’ness. De house didn" 
bothah huh, fo’ she had a housekeepah to run hit, an’ I 
don’ ric’lect how many se’vants; an’ Mistah Tom didn’ 
bothah huh , fo’ he was tuck up mos er de time wid bus- 
iness or bosses. 

“Mis’ Sally commence’ givin’ a heap er en’tain- 
ments, an’ havin’ house pahties, an’ runnin’ ovah to 
Nashville to go to de pahties er de othah folks what wuz 
lak huhse’f; an’ bimeby she got tiahed er dat an’ com- 
mence’ to run up to New Yawk to see ’bout dis, dat an’ 
de othah. Den she tuck a notion to git de paperin’ er de 
house done over ag’in, ’cause de colors didn’t suit huh — 
traipsin’ roun’ heah an’ there, twel hit look lak she wuz 
bit thoo an’ thoo by de bug er unres’fulness. Den all of 
a suddent Mis’ Sally wuz tuck down sick, an’ de doctah 
p’nounce de ailment nuvvus prosperation. You see. 
Uncle Petah, ’stid er tekin’ dem dollahs an’ trainin’ de 
wings on ’em to fly whar dey’d be a blessin’ to de folks 
whut need ’em mos’, she had tu’n’ de eagles’ haids to’d 
huh haht; an’ hit wuz gittin’ dat scrouged up wid money 
an’ selfishness dat she commence’ to have a ingrowin’ 
soul, which am a hun’erd times wusser’n a ingrowin’" 
nail. Mis’ Sally wuz de mis’rables’, mos res’less pusson 
whutevah you wants to see an’ heah ! She wuz traipsin’ 
off fus’ to one place an’ den to anothah, not knowin’ ed- 
zackly whut ailed huh — even ef de doctahs did say hit 
wuz huh ne’ves; an’ ev’y time she’d meet up wid some 
one whut wuz in de same boat ez she wuz, den hit’d be to 
try de same cure dey wuz tryin’. 

“Things went on dataway fo’ three yeahs, when all 
of a suddent hit spread ovah de town lak fiah dat Mistah 
Tom Baker had done been an’ los’ ev’y cent he owned 
in spec’latin’, an’ de onlies’ thing lef’ wuz de ol’ fahm- 
house ’crost de rivah. 

“Dey sent Mis’ Sally a telegraph to come home; an’ 
I reckon hit wuz hahder fo’ ’em to break de news to huh 
dan it had been fo’ Mistah Tom to lose de money. Folks 
wuz expectin’ to heah dat she’d jes’ drapped ovah in huh 
tracks at'de tur’ble news, an’ dat hit would nachully be 
de en’ er Mis’ Sally. Well, ez de case happen sometimes 


60 


Rockbottom and Miss Sally Baker 


mos’ usually, folks wuz wrong. Ef dey’s any quality in 
white folks, happenin’s lak dat am de ones whut bring 
hit out — jes lak de wah did; an' hit twuz time fo' Mis' 
Sally to show whut kin' er folks she come fum. 

“De gran' house an' all de funnishings wuz sold fo’ 
debt. An' Mistah Tom Baker an' his fambiy scraped 
whut dey could together an' tuck de road 'crost de rivah 
to de fahmhouse. Fum de time Mis' Sally step off de 
train not one soun' did any one hyah huh say 'bout nuv- 
vus prosperation, or how she wuz feelin'. She had a 
liT money wid huh, an' ez de fahm was got mighty run- 
down dey used hit fo' replenishin' de tools an' sich ez 
well ez dey could. Dar wuz a li'l' cabin near de place, 
jes' 'bout big nuff fo' a small fambiy; an' ez de Slo- 
cums's wuz in Nashville wid Miss May fo’ de winter, an' 
not needin’ us, Isom offered hisse'f to he'p Mistah Tom, 
who wuz pow'ful glad to git him. I had intentions er 
doin' all I could fo' Mis' Sally, 'cause I knowed dey 
couldn' begin to keep a se'vant; an' I tuck pleasure in 
doin' whut I could. 

“Laws, Uncle Petah, you nevah saw such a mess of 
a place in yo’ life ez dat fahm when we fus’ got there! 
Hit tuck us a whole month befo' hit even begin to be 
htten fo’ people lak de Bakers to live in; an’ ez Mis’ 
Sally hadn’ been rais' to do much 'bout de house alone 
— even befo’ Mistah Tom got rich she wa'n’t great on 
housewuk — you can 'magine de time we had an’ whut-all 
we had to do! Thoo de whole time I was watchin’ Mis' 
Sally, ez anxious ez a cat, fo’ fear er dat nuvvus pros- 
peration bustin’ out on huh; but nary a sign. 

“Inside of two months. Uncle Petah, whut wid all 
on us wukkin’ lak bees, de place look fine an' p’sentable. 
I tuk an’ learnt Mis’ Sally how to mek bread, an' how 
to milk an’ churn; an' even cut de chillen some dresses. 
An’ hit suttenly wuz s’prisin' de way she cotch on! Ef 
evah I had a sup’stition dat she wuz feelin’ down in de 
mouf I’d git huh busy at some kin' er light wuk, an' tell 
huh stories 'bout endurin' de wah; an' bimeby I could 
feel in my haht dat hit had tuk de weight offen huh. 

“Huh cheeks commence' to fill out an' git pink, lak 


Rockbottom and Miss Sally Baker 


61 


when she wuz a young lady, whut wid all de extrasize 
she wuz takin’ an’ keepin’ huh min’ busy wid learnin’ 
things. When Mistah Tom’d come home fo’ meals he’d 
say dat hit wuz wuth while pinchin’ huh face, now dar 
was flesh to pick up in his fingers! De fr’en’s whut 
drove out wuz dat ’stonished at de change in huh, an’ at 
not findin’ huh standin’ wid one foot in de grave aftah 
huh hahdships, dat dey moufs drap open an’ mighty 
nigh stayed dat way! 

“ ‘Hit’s de watah done hit,' says one er de ladies 
aftah she tuck a drink outen de spring near de house; 
‘an’ you’s plum’ foolish not to tu’n de fahm into a cem- 
etarium !’ 

“ ‘Mis’ Sally wuz holdin li’l’ Tom on huh lap jes’ 
den, an’ she looked ovah his haid ’crost to whar I wuz 
standin’ an’ laughed. 

“ ‘Viney,’ she says, lookin’ happier’n evah she had 
looked when she owned de grand house an’ fine stuff in 
hit, ‘am dat de thing whut cured de nuvvus prospera- 
tion?’ 

“Well’m,’ says I, ‘hit wa’n’t de spring water so much 
ez hit twuz whut de spring water rests on. Mis’ Sally.’ 

“ ‘Whut am dat?’ says de visitor. 

“‘Rockbottom!’ says I; an’ at dat ev’y one jine’ in 
a laugh.” 


The Unaccountable Sex. 


female sect,” remarked Uncle Peter to Viney as 
they sat on the little cabin porch enjoying the sunshine 
of Indian summer, "‘am de curousest an’ mos’ un’count- 
ables’ folkses in de worl’.” 

“Hit always amusifies me,” responded Viney dryly, 
“to heah dat remahk observated by de menfolkses. Uncle 
Peter. Dey ain’t nothin cur’ous ner un’countable in de 
rfemale sect. Hit’s de male whut answers dat puhscrip- 
xion. When hit comes to doin’ whut’s to be did, a woman 
do hit er she don’ do hit — one er de odder. Dat’s all dey 
is ’bout hit. Hit’s lak playin’ a game er cyards wid.a 
deck whut’s bavided in haif, an’ you jes’ nachully knows 
det if you ain’t got de ace er di’mon’s de odder pusson’s 
holdin’ hit. 

“But, wid a man, you’s playin’ a game whah paht er 
de deck am on de table, an ef you ain’t got big casino you 
don’t know ef hit’s in his han’ er in de widdah. A man 
cain’t count on hisse’f, let alone ’spectin’ a woman to 
count on him. He jes’ nachully finds a stoppin’-off sta- 
tion between ’gwine to’ an’ ‘ain’t gwine to’ an’ he’s as li- 
able to plant hisse’f in de middle er de seesaw ez he am on 
one end er de odder., Wid de male sect dey ain’t no tollin’ 
at all. 

“Tek de case er de preachah an’ Ros’bel. Dat gal 
had done laid herse’f out fo’ to marry him goin’ on dese 
pas’ fo’ yeahs, an’ she wuz holdin’ on to huh intention 
fine twel sumpin come along whut give hit a consid’able 
jar. Lindy Jackson’s niece, .Mirella, had come to town 
one Sunday on a execution train fum Mar’etta, Georgy, 
an’ she changed huh min’ ’bout goin’ back dat night, 
’count er Beelzebub’s goat — Beelzebub am Lindy’s boy. 
De way it happen Mirella wuz standin’ on one side er de 
fence tryin’ to coax de goat to come on up to huh, when 
one er dese heah no-’count li’l’ windpuffs come erlong an’ 
whipped huh execution ticket clean outen huh jacket 
pocket right thoo de fence under de goat’ses ve’y nose. 
By de time Mirella had clum de fence, hit twuz too late. 

62 


The Unaccountable Sex 


63 


De goat wuz jes* standin’ dere lookin' ez peac’ble ez ef all 
dem miles fum heah to Marietta didn’ mek no mo' diif'- 
ence on de inside of him dan dey did on de out. So hit 
twuz owin' to dat windpuff or de goat — whichevah way 
you wants to look at hit — dat Mirella met de preachah, 
fo' she had to p'olong huh visit an' mek nuff money fo' 
rai'road fare. 

"‘Lindy got huh a temp'rary place ez chambermaid 
up at Gen'l Poindextah's an', ez de preachah had cha'ge 
er de lawnmowin' at de Gen’l's, dat wuz de commence- 
ment er de beginnin' wid him an' Mirella. An po' Ros'- 
bel wuz clean fo'got. 

“Hit twuz tek Mirella to church an' de straw be'y 
festibles, an' go walkin' wid Mirella, an' settin' an' go 
walkin' wid Mirella, an' settin' on Lindy's po'ch steps o' 
a evenin' wid Mirella, twel hit looked plum ridic'lous. 
Whut in de worl' he evah seed in huh is mo'n I kin tell 
fo' she wuz mos'ly clothes. I don' believe de whole gal 
weighed ninety pounds. An' she hadn' no mo' sense'n a 
cricket. Always put me in mind er a mess o' greens 
whut seem lak sumpin when you puts hit on de fiah in 
de pot, but jes' nachully boils down to no mo'n a han'ful. 
I reckon ef Mirella had 'a' been boiled down de onliest 
thing whut would 'a' been lef in de kittle would 'a' been 
de gol' toof dat niggah had in de front er huh mouf, fo' 
she didn' 'mount to a row er pins, no way you tuck huh. 
An' ez fo' standin' up 'longside er Ros'bel when hit comes 
to washin' er cookin' er bein' able to shout when she come 
thoo at revival services, why. Uncle Peter, Mirella'd have 
to tek de hi'most seat in de room. 

“But fo' all dat she had de preachah goin', an' .when 
Ros'bel 'd come ovah in de aft’noons to he’p me wid de 
i'nin' I could tell hit twuz on huh min' pow'ful bad. She 
tuck hit out mos'ly cornin' down on de boa'd — kabang! — 
wid a hot i'n, but I ain’t said nothin’, cause I knowed 
she'd have to wuk hit off someway. 

‘Hit’s de gol’ toof whut has cotched him,' says I one 
day jes' aftah she had slambanged de i’n down on one er 
Mis' Fanny Slocum'ses pillowshams; ‘an’ ef I was rich, 
Ros'bel, I'd sen' you on down to a den'ist man an' pay fo' 
a moufful er de gol' ones fo' you — five up an' five down. 


The Unaccountable Sex 


6^ 


I sholy would/ I has wondered many a time sence den. 
whut would ’a’ happened ef I had helt my mouf shet ^stid 
er sayin’ dem ve’y words, fo’ I cain’t tell yit ef hit twuz 
fo' de bes’ er de wusst. But whutevah come in my haid 
aftahwahds 'bout hit don' mek no diff’ence, an’ dey ain’t 
no use tryin’ to pick up spilt milk. 

'‘Ros’bel didn’t seem to want to say much mo’ dat 
aft’noon. She ’peared to be thinkin’ ’bout sumpin pow- 
ful hahd, an she lef’ kinder soon. I nevah sot eyes on 
huh fo’ three er fo’ days when one aft’noon while I wuz 
sprinklin’ down some clothes I heerd Ros’bel’s feetsteps 
on de po’ch an’ she come on in. I didn’ tu’n roun’ right 
off ez I wuz jes’ finishin’ a dress. 

‘Howdy, Ros’bel,’ says I, though I ain’t hearn huh 
call out lak she mos’ usually do when she come on thoo to 
de back er de house. ‘Sence when is you got so hightoned 
dat you cain’t pass de time er day?’ I rolled de dress up 
when I said dat, den I tu’n roun’ an’ — ‘Lawd have mussy 
on my soul!’ I says. Hit ’twuz Ros’bel I wuz lookin’ at 
an’ yet hit wa’n’t Ros’bel. 

“ ‘Ros’bel,’ I says in a minute er two, aftah I had 
done got my breff a little, ‘tek dat mask’rade offen yo’ 
face.’ I wuz mad, bein’ skeered lak dat. She sorter say 
sumpin, I ain’t un’erstan’. ‘Stop dat tryin’ to talk fool 
talk, Ros’bel,’ says I, ‘an’ tek off dat falseface.’ An’ den 
all o’ a suddent hit come ovah me dat hit wa’n‘t no false- 
face at all. Dat gal’s gums an’ huh lips wuz swoll up so, 
dat ’stid er huh mouf lookin’ lak hit twuz paht er huh 
face, huh face look lak hit wuz de. outside aidges er huh 
mouf. ‘You’s been an’ got pizen oak on you!’ I hollered. 
Ros’b*el shuck huh haid an’ open up huh mouf fo’ to say 
sumpin. Dey wa’n’t nary a front toof in dat niggah’s 
haid! 

“Uncle Peter, hit’d tek too long to tell you how I 
come at de whole story, fo’ let alone dat she wuz back- 
wahd an’ ’shamed to tell me, hit wuz all I could do to mek 
out whut she wuz sayin’. 

“She had tuck huhse’f down to a den’ist man an’ 
give him ten dollahs down an’ promise mo’ on de ’stall- 
ment plan ef he’d pull out huh front teef an’ mek huh a 
set er gol’ ones instid, whut she could put away when 


The Unaccountable Sex 


65 


she wuz wukkin’. He tor huh dat aftah de swellin^ an' 
so’ness would go 'way he'd put in de teef. An’ heah de 
swellin' wuz gittin' wusser an' wusser 'an' Ros'bel scared 
plum outen huh wits 'cause de hurtin' wuz turrible. She 
had figgahed dat ef Mirella's one gol' toof fetched de 
preachah, ten o’ her'n would git him back strong ; but she 
discalculated on de desuit. An' heah she wuz settin' in 
my kitchen rockin’ back an' fo'th, an' all I knowed wuz to 
poultice huh mouf tw^el I could go on down to de den'ist 
man an' ax him whut to do. 

“I went straight to de numbah Ros'bel gimme, an' 
de place wuz all closed up. De gen'l'man whut had de 
awfice nex’ do' say hit had done been close dataway fo’ 
de las' two days an' he reckoned de den'ist had gone 
somewhahs. ‘So dat's de end er Ros'bel's money,' says I 
to myse'f;an' ez I had to pass Mis' Fanny's house on 
de way home, I stopped in fo' to tell huh 'bout hit an' ax 
whut to do. She tol' me to bring Ros'bel on up to de 
house an' she'd have a reg'lar den'ist look at huh face; 
so wid dat I hurry on home. 

“I wuz walkin' ez fas' ez I could when I heahs some 
one call out back er me: ‘Hoi' on, Sistah Hen'erson, 
whah is you boun’ fo' so fas' dis fine aft'noon?' An' heah 
come dat preachah sailin' aftah me. He wuz all duded 
up an' grinnin' lak a chessy cat, an' when I 'membered 
all de mis'ry he had brung on Ros'bel an' all de teef an' 
night's res’ she had los’, not to say nothin' o' dat ten dol- 
lahs, I 'spon's to him ez col' ez ice: ‘Aft'noon, Brothah 
Johnson.' He stepped up 'longside er me. ‘You hasn't 
no bejections to my comp'ny — has you, Sistah Hen'erson? 
— 'cause I is boun' on yo' d'rection.' ‘No,' says I ez stiif 
ez a pokah; ‘I ain't got no bejections,' fo' I seed my 
chancet. 

“Hit wa’n't but a minute 'fo' hit came. ‘I ain’t seed 
Sistah Ros'bel dese heah las' few days,' says he, sweet 
ez sugar. ‘Brothah Johnson,' says I, lookin' him hahd in 
de face, ‘fo’ a ’sponsible lawnmowah an’ a man er de 
Gospel, hit suttenly do pass my time how you kin ack 
lies.' He drew hisse'f up at dat. ‘I don't un'stan' whut 
you's tryin' to insingerate,' says he. ‘Don't you go hand- 
in' me no Bible words, Brothah Johnson,' says I, ‘fo' hit 


€6 


The Unaccountable Sex 


ain’t goin’ to git you nowhahs wid me aftah whut you’s 
gone an’ done.’ 

“He drawed back lak I wuz gwine to come at him 
wid a lick. ‘Heah you is axin’ ’bout dat po’ lamb aftah 
de way you’s treated huh! Puttin’ on a in’cent face 
when you’s lef’ Ros’bel to run aftah dat puny li’l’ string 
Mirella whut ain’t wuth shucks outside er de price she 
paid fo’ dat gol’ toof er her’nl’ 

“Mos’ usually de preachah ’spon’s to talk wid a tex’ 
fetched up outen de Bible, but dis time I had him an’ his 
tex’es backed up in a cornder an’ all he could do wuz jes’ 
to look sheepish. ‘An’ now,’ says I, ‘when Ros’bel’s done 
gone an’ got huh looks sp’iled an’ huh face all messed up 

’count er you ’ At dat he broke in: ‘Huh face! 

’Count er me!’ An’ I tol’ him de whole business ’bout 
dem gol’ teef. Laws! You ought ’a’ seed de preachah. 
He looked lak you could ’a’ knocked him down wid a 
feathah an’ I could see hit hit him sorter hahd. 

“ ‘Sistah Hen’erson,’ he say presen’ly, ‘dese pas’ fo’ 
yeahs I has had intentions er ma’yin’ dat gal, on’y I jes’ 
hadn’ come to ’em yit; but now de Lawd has showed me 
my mistake an’ I’s agwine to ax huh to ma’y me dis ve’y 
aft’noon. Whah is she?’ 

“ ‘She’s down at my house, Brothah Johnson,’ says 
I, ‘an’ you kin come ’long ef you wants to, but ef I knows 
enything ’bout menfolkses you ain’t gwine to want huh 
when you sees huh face. You ain’t agwine to think ’bout 
de qualities she’s got — you’s jes’ nachully gwine to tu’n 
an’ run.’ 

“ ‘Sistah Hen’erson,’ he says, awful earnes’ lak, ‘tek 
me on down to yo’ house wid you,’ an’ sho nuff. Uncle 
Peter, he come. We walked on in de house an’ thoo to de 
kitchen whah Ros’bel wuz settin’ waitin’ fo’ me. She 
caught sight er de preachah befo’ he seed huh, an’ quick 
ez a flash she grab a pillowslip oifen a cheer an’ drawed 
hit ovah huh haid. An’ dar she set when we come in, 
jes’ lak one er dese heah Kukluxes. ‘Ros’bel,’ says I, 
marchin’ up in front er huh, ‘de preachah has come heah 
to ax you to ma’y him.’ Hit wuz sorter suddent lak to 
come at de po’ gal dataway, but I b’lieves ef you’s got to 
do sumpin whut ain’t ’greeable de sooner hit’s ovah de 


The Unaccountable Sex 


67 


better. ‘You says you wants to ma’y huh no matter whut 
she look lak?’ says I to de preachah. He come on ovah 
an’ tuck Ros’bel’s han’. ‘Dat I do,’ says de preachah. 
‘Den,’ says I to Ros’bel, ‘tek dat pillow slip offen yo’ haid 
an’ look Brothah Johnson square in de face.’ 

“Ros’bel done ez I tol’ huh. Uncle Peter, I had seed 
huh a’ ready, but when she come out er dat slip hit wuz 
mos’ ez bad ez de fus’ time I had looked at huh. ‘Heah 
is whah de preachah lose his backbone,’ went thoo my 
min’. I give one look at him. Dere he stood lookin’ in 
huh eyes lak ez ef he wuz gazin’ at de Queen er Sheby an’ 
holdin’ huh han’ lak hit ’twuz made er di’mon’s. 

“ ‘Ros’bel,’ he says sof’ lak, in de kin’ er voice he 
uses when he prays low in de chu’ch, ‘will yo’ have me?’ 

“An’ Ros’bel, not bein’ able to speak un’erstandably, 
looked up at him an shuck huh haid — ‘Yes.’ 


Viney At The Moving Pictures, 


‘‘Mis’ Fanny ain’t been feelin’ so well of late,” said 
Viney to Uncle Peter as the latter helped her tie up the 
sweet-pea vines in front of the cabin. 

“Shore ’nough?” Uncle Peter painfully straight- 
ened up from the stick over which he bent and turned 
an inquiring gaze on his informant. 

“Yes,” responded Viney. “She’s been sorter peakid 
de las’ few weeks; an’ when I ax huh what is de matter 
she say hit’s some ’monia. I doesn’t know de destina- 
tion er dat word edzeckly, but, ’cordin’ to Mis’ Fanny’s 
pescription of hit, hit’s some sort er stuff what pVents 
a pusson fum sleepin’; an’ what wid dat an’ de chillen 
dancin’ on huh haid all day, an’ she too easy wid ’em to 
give ’em a tas’e er hick’ry tea, she’s jes’ plum’ wo’ to 
a frazzle.” 

“Chillen!” said Uncle Peter, with a puzzled look, 
“Whose chillen is you talkin’ ’bout?” 

“Mis’ May’s an’ Mistah Robert’s chillen. You see, 
whenever dey goes off to de springs in de summer dey' 
leaves de two ol’est chillen wid dey gran-ma an’ gran’pa, 
but dey sorter ’pen’s on me lookin’ after ’em too, .spe- 
cially now dat Mis’ Fanny is feelin’ po’ly; an’, even ef 
she was well, Pd help, ’cause I knows how ag’avatin*^ 
chillen can be when dey’s done been spoilt plum’ rotten 
by dey kinfolks. I always believes what de Good Book 
say: ‘Cas’ yo’ chickens on de water an’ after many 
days dey will come home to roos’.’ An’ de Gunnel an’ 
Mis’ Fanny is jes’ reapin’ what dey cas’ on de water, 
’cause dey has done been an’ spoiled dem chillen wuss’n 
dey own pa’ents has. 

“Ev’y aft’noon I goes ovah to de house an’ takes 
’em out walkin’ somewheres. Dat gives Mis’ Fanny 
time to take a nap an’ make herse’f ’resentable fo’ de 
evenin’, ’cause she always dudes up befo’ Gunnel Slo- 
cum comes home. 

“De other day I got up to de house a li’l’ earlier’n 


68 


Viney at the Moving Pictures 


69 


usual; an* when I come on thoo de dinin* room in de 
front hall fo* to tote de chillen upstairs an’ dress ’em, 
Mistah Frank Slocum, de Gunnel’s nephew, was jes git- 
tjn’ ready to leave de house. Bofe er de chillen was 
hangin' on to his coattails an’ cuttin’ up an hollerin’ lak 
dey was plum’ crazy. He had drapped in fo’ lunch, an’ 
nothin’ wouldn’t do dem young uns but fo’ him to take 
’em down town wid him. 

‘Heigho, Viney!’ he hollers, so soon as his eye 
lights on me — I always did lak Mistah Frank, ’cause he’s 
so full er devilment — ‘cain’t you git dese heah young 
Injuns offen me? Dey’s wuss’n a couple er cockleburs!’ 
An’ he shuck hisse’f to git aloost fum ’em. At dat de 
chillen holler all de mo’. Hit was all dat I could do to 
pull ’em oif. ‘Now,’ say Mistah Frank, ‘I ain’t got no 
time to fool roun’ wid you young uns; but I’ll tell you 
what I’ll do; Ise gwine to give Viney some tickets’ — an’ 
he pulled out a roll er pink uns fum his hin’ pocket, to’ 
off three an’ give ’em to me — ‘an’ she’ll take you-all to 
a show dis aft’noon.’ 

“At dat li’l’ Robert commence’ prancin’ an’ shout- 
in’: ‘A circus! A circus! We’s gwine to a circus!’ 

“ ‘No,’ say Mistah Frank ; ‘hit ain’t no circus — 
hit’s a movin’ pitcher show.’ 

“ ‘Movin’-pitcher show!’ say I. ‘Where does dey 
move de pitchers fum an’ why does dey move ’em. 

“ ‘I ain’t got no time to ’splain to you now, Viney,’ 
’spon’ Mistah Frank, smilin’. ‘You jes’ take de chillen 
to de cornder er Market an’ Sevent’ Streets an’ you’ll 
see de place, what’s got music playin’ on de outside.’ I 
knowed whar he meant, ’cause hit was a new place jes’ 
started, an’ when Ise passin’ I has stopped to listen to 
de music. 

“ ‘Dey don’t ’low no cullud folks in dat place, do 
dey?’ say 1. 

“‘Not in giri’l,’ say Mistah Frank; ‘but Ise a half 
^ owner, an’ ef de boy what takes in tickets say anythin’ 
to you jes’ give him dis.’ An’ Mistah Frank tuck a 
piece er paper outen a li’l’ book an’ writ sumpin’ on hit. 
‘Heah you is, an’ goodby to you-all.’ An’ liftin’ up Rob- 


70 


Viney at the Moving Pictures 


ert an’ Mary to kiss ’em, he lit out fo’ de gate as hard 
as he could tear. 

“I went on upstairs wid de chillen an’ wash an’ 
dress ’em. I has seed chillen what have mo’ stricter 
raisin’, but I ain’t never sot eyes on none what showed 
dey was quality mo’ dan dem two chillen do. Day knows 
dey is fine-lookin’, an’ when we went down de street 
dey was holdin’ up dey haids an’ steppin’ lak a pair er 
circus bosses on p’rade day. 

“When we come to de place we was aimin’ fo’ I 
tuck de two chillen by de han’ an’ march right on up 
to de boy w^hat was takin’ up de tickets. I hande;! out 
de three what Mistah Frank gimme. ‘Heah!’ he say, 
shovin’ ’em back at me. ‘We don’t ’low no coons in heah!* 

“At dat I stiffen up straight as a pokah. ‘Yo’ po’ 
white trash!’ say I. ‘I’m heah wid Mis’ Fanny’s gran’- 
chillen, an’ we’s come to see de show.’ ‘I don’t care 
ef dey’s Mis’ Fanny’s er Mis’ Annie’s er Queen Vic- 
tory’s gran’chillen,’ say dat smaht Aleck. ‘Ise got or- 
ders not to remit no niggers, an’ I ain’t gwine i •!’ By 
dat time a crowd commence to scrowdge up roun’ to lis- 
ten. ‘Heah,’ say I, th’owin’ de piece er paper what Mis- 
tah Frank gimme right at de boy, ‘I reckon when 3^ou 
sees dat you’ll stop shootin’ off dat big lip er your’nl’ 
De boy look at de paper an’ den at me. An’ den he say, 
mighty sheepish-like, after a minute; ‘All right, Aunty; 
I guess you can go in.’ ‘Don’t yo’ Aunty me!’ say I; 
‘fo’ Ise mighty p’tic’ler what kin’ er folks I ’lows to 
claim kin wid me.’ An’, wid de people jes’ hollerin’ an’ 
laughin’, we went on in. 

“Dark! I couldn’t see my han’ befo’ me; an’ de 
two chillen hung on to me lak snappin’ turtles, dey was 
so ’fraid er losin’ me. 

“ ‘Right down dis way,’ say some one, an’ I kep’ on 
walkin’. ‘Hm!’ say I to myse’f. ‘What do dey kick up 
all dese bejections ’gainst cullud folks cornin’ in heah? 
— ’cause der ain’t no way er tellin’ de white fum de 
black after youse oncet inside!’ We kep’ on feelin’ ouah 
way ’long, an’ mus’ agone clean on up to de p’served 


Viney at the Moving Pictures 


71 


seats, I reckon, when de voice say: ‘Three seats right 
in heah!* An’ we stop. 

“I reach out an’ grabbed holt of a man’s haid by 
mistake. Den, befo’ I could make any excusements, I 
sot right down on a lady’s lap; an’ fo’ a minute dey was 
such a mixtry, what wid me an’ de chillen tryin’ to 
fin’ ouah seats, an’ dem people grumblin’ at me an’ say- 
in’ all kin’s er unpolite language, dat I was wishin’ I 
nevah had come. 

“By-an’-by we got all straight an’ I look roun’ fo’ 
to spy de movin’ pitchers; but dere was sumpin’ goin’ 
on up in front what extracted my ’tention an’ I fo’got all 
’bout de movin’ pitchers an’ looked at de place where de 
light was cornin’ fum an’ folks was walkin’ roun’ in a 
room. Leas’ways dey look lak folks; yet dere was sum- 
pin’ curi’s ’bout ’em what mek hit seem lak dey wa’n’t 
folks. 

“ ‘Whar’s de movin’ pitchers, Viney?’ say Mary, 
snuggin’ up to me. ‘Sh-h-h!’ say I. ‘I don’t know zackly 
jes’ yet; but be still er we cain’t hear ’em when dey do 
come.’ 

“Den I look at dem folks up to’d de front ag’in, an’ 
try to mek out what dey was doin’. Hit was a ol’ man an’ 
woman, an’ a young man — dey son, I reckon — all in a 
room togedder; an’ hit look lak de son was beggin’ de 
ol’ man fo’ sumpin’ er othah; but he scowl an’ shuck his 
haid an’ mek a face lak a thundercloud. His lips was 
movin’ but dere wa’n’t a mossel er soun’ come fum ’em. 
Dat was de curi’s part. Den de son turn to his mammy 
— she look lak a feelin’-hearted ol’ lady — an’ ax huh to 
ax de ol’ man for whatever hit was he was after. De oT 
lady look at de ol’ man sorter pleadin’-lak an’ say sumpin’ 
to him; but he look madder’n ever. Den de boy an’ his 
ma see hit ’tain’t no use, an’ dey goes on out er de room. 
At dat de ol’ man sets down at his desk an’ stahts to look 
ovah some papers what he gits outen a drawer. But firs’ 
he looks to see dat dere ain’t no one roun’. By-an’-by de 
do’ opens slow an’ de son slips in de room, tiptoes ovah 
behin’ de ol’ man, an’ — kabam! — down he comes right 
on de ol’ man’s haid wid his fis’; an’ de ol’ man drops 


72 


Viney at the Moving Pictures 


ovah in de cheer widout makin* anudder move. De son 
grab de box er papers an’ run out de room. 

*‘At dat de whole place change befo’ you could 
blink yo’ eyelid, an’ ef heah wa’n’t a railroad track an’ 
de room was gone as clean as ef hit nevah had been in 
dat place. Befo’ I could study out how dey got de place 
all fix up so quick, heah come a man runnin’ fast as a 
deer, an’ way off yonder heah come a train — a shore- 
nough train. Uncle Petah — true as yo’ bawn ! You 
could see de smoke an’ heah dat injine a-comin’ — puff! 
puff! puff! — louder ’n louder, an’ closeter an’ closeter. 
De chillen grab holt er me an’ commence whimp’in’. Law- 
dy,’ say I; ‘lemme git out er heah! Ise got charge er 
dese chillen an’ Ise a-gwine carry ’em back safe to Mis’ 
Fanny ef hit’s de las’ thing I lives to do.’ Nearer an’ 
nearer come dat injine. I wa’n’t waitin’ to ax any ex- 
cusements. I tuck bofe dem chillen up in my ahms an’, 
wid one jump, I busted thoo dem seats an’ de folks in ’em, 
an’ run fo’ de do’ ! We was all three hollerin’ as loud as 
we could holler. I ain’t no sooner’n got into de aisle dan 
de whole place riz up an’ started fo’ de do’. I reckon 
dey had jes’ come to dey senses an’ was try in’ to git out 
er dat injine’s way too; but I didn’t have no time fo’ to 
stop an’ ax ’em ’bout hit. ‘Lemme out er heah!’ say 
I, shoutin’ at de top er my lungs. ‘Dese heah is Mis’ 
Fanny’s gran’chillen, an’ Ise got to git’ em home !’ 

“Wid dat, I belt my haid down an’ pushed thoo dat 
crowd wid hit, twel we knocked a openin’ fo’ to git out 
de do’ an’ on to de sidewalk. Heah come all de res’, tumb- 
lin’ out after us, as skeered as we was; but dey all got 
out in time an’ dere wa’n’t no one hurt, tho’ some was 
kinder mussed up. 

“‘What’s all dis crowd an’ noise ’bout?’ say a man 
back er me; an’ when I turn roun’ dere stan’s Mistah 
Frank. De chillen was still cryin’ an’ I was straight- 
enin’ ’em out; but when dey seen him dey bofe run 
up to him. ‘Somebody hollered fire!’ say a boy befo’ I 
could answer Mistah Frank. ‘Hit wa’n’t no one hol- 
lerin’ fire,’ say I; ‘hit was de chillen hollerin’ “Viney!” 
dat dey must ’a’ mistook fo’ dat, Mistah Frank.’ 


Viney at the Moving Pictures 


73 


“ ‘So,’ say Mistah Frank, lookin’ at Robert an’ 
Mary, ‘you is de cause er all dis excitement!’ 

“‘Hit was me!’ say I speakin’ up sorter mad; 
’cause I was dat outdid wid Mistah Frank fo’ lettin us 
go inside dat place. ‘Hit was me! When I seen dat 
injine cornin’ smack dab at dese heah chillen I knowed 
dat wa’n’t no place fo’ us; an’ I lit out fo’ de do’.’ At 
dat de crowd commence whoopin’ an’ laughin’ twel hit 
look lak dey nevah was gwine to stop, but I couldn’t 
see no joke! an’ de mo’ dey laugh de madder I got. Mis- 
tah Frank was chucklin’ ’long wid de res’ of ’em. 

“ ‘Come on chillen,’ say I ; ‘dis ain’t no place fo’ 
us!’ An’ we went on home. When I tol’ Mis’ Fanny 
’bout hit, she carry on lak dem other folks did; an’ den, 
when she finish laughin’, she tol’ me hit wa’n’t no shore- 
’nough injine ner folks, but jes’ pitchers of ’em. Den 
she try to splain a whole rigmaro’ to me ’bout how hit 
was did; but I ain’t understood none of hit. Dat was 
a shore-’nough injine! I seen de smoke an’ heard hit 
cornin’ wid my own eyes an’ ears, as plain as I seen 
you tie up dem pea vines. Uncle Petah,” concluded 
Viney. 

“White folks is pow’ful smaht — dey ain’t no denyin’ 
dat ; an’ dey knows how to fix up mo’ curi’s things in a 
minute dan us niggahs could study out in a hun’red 
yeahs. But de nex’ time Ise axed to movin’ pitchers 
hit’ll be when Mis’ Fanny has housecleanin’ an’ gits 
me to take ’em off de wall, ’cause I ain’t got no tas’e 
fo’ de newfangled ones.” 


Viney On Conservation. 


“Up at Slocumses,” said Viney to Uncle Peter, “ev- 
'ybody's busy doin’ sumpin fo’ de wah. De Gunnel am 
out sellin’ lib’ty bombs; May’s jined de Red Crost sewin’ 
bee; Mistah Robe’t am head of de Home P’serve G/ ihds; 
an’ Mis’ Fanny am pres’dent of de Food Convuhsation 
S’ciety.” 

“Food Convuhsation S’ciety?’’ Uncle Peter turned 
a puzzled gaze upon Viney. “Hit do seem funny dat you 
has to jine a s’ciety to have food convuhsation. Why, 
hit seem lak to me dat de onlies’ kind er convuhsation I 
heahs dese days am ’bout food.” 

“Miss Fanny,” responded Viney, “was splainin to me 
’bout dis heer s’ciety; an’ she say dat one er de things 
hit means am dat de mo’ cawn bread we eats, de quicker 
de wah gwine to be winned.” 

Uncle Peter smacked his lips. 

“Kin de men b’long to dat s’ciety?” he asked with 
heightened interest. 

“Ev’ybody kin b’long,” Viney told him. “De idea * m 
fo’ to sen’ all de wheat ’crost de sea whut kin be spa •?d, 
an’ fo’ de folks ovah heah to use up de cawn.” 

“Maybe dem folks ovah yondah whar de fightin’a 
gwine on ain’t nevah tasted hoecake, ner cawn flip-flaps. 
’Gaze if dey had, dey’d want us to keep de wheat an’ give 
’em de cawn. 

“I don’ know nothin’ ’bout dat part,” Viney told 
him, “’cep’n’ hit’s one er de things whut goes ’long wid 
food convuhsation.” 

“Did Mis’ Fanny git up dat s’ciety?” asked Uncle 
Peter. 

“No; Mis’ Fanny say hit was agonized by a gen’l’* 
man up in Wash’n’on. Dis heer Mister Whoever say dat, 
onless dis country cuts down on hits rashuns, hit ain’t 
gwine to git thoo whoopin’ de Ge’mans fo’ a long time.” 

“How come we kin lick ’em sooner by goin’ 
hongry?” Uncle Peter’s expression was incredulous. 

“Man!” exclaimed Viney. “You’s ’nough to give a. 


74 


Viney on Conservation 


75 


pusson de neVous presperation ! Ain’t you done heerd 
nothin’ ’tall ’bout de Newnited States sendin’ hits super- 
flupus p’ojuce to Englum an’ Franch fo’ to feed de sojers 
an’ de folks ovah yondah? Ain’t none er de white ladies 
been roun’ to yo’ house to splain?” 

Uncle Peter shook his head. 

“Ef dey has, Campsey ner de chillen ain’t say nothin’ 
to me ’bout hit.” 

“Dey done been to see me,” Viney informed him, 
“an’ dey talked to me ’bout savin’ ev’y scrap er vittles an’ 
not wastin’ no food, an’ ax me would I take de pledge to 
go widout meat one day in de week! Well, I tol’ ’em 
I hadn’t had a mossel er meat in de house fo’ foah days 
nohow; but I thanked ’em fo’ de compliment.” 

Viney paused thoughtfully. 

“De onlies’ thing I ain’t got used to,” she contin- 
ued, “’bout dis heer food convuhsation am de way Mis’ 
Fanny’s tuck to nosin’ roun’ ’bout me takin’ a li’l’ snack 
home at night when I’s done wukkin’ at huh house. You 
knows. Uncle Petah, dat Mis’ Fanny ain’t neveh been 
picayunish wid vittles as long as we’s been wukkin’ fo’ 
huh. Co’se I didn’ always ax huh could I take de vittles 
home. Ef dey was a few slices o’ ham lef’ in de ’frig’- 
raider, er some aigs no one wuzn’t usin’, er a mite o’ 
sugah I happen’ to need fo’ to make my quinch p’serbs, 
er a li’l’ sumpin lak dat — why, I jes borried offen Mis’ 
Fanny an’ ain’t said nothin’ ’bout hit. De Slocumses 
wouldn’ ’a’ missed hit no mo’ dan you er me’d miss a eye- 
lash. 

“Well, heer de yuther night I wuz gittin’ ready ta 
come on home, when Mis’ Fanny walks out in de kitchen.. 
I wasn’t lookin’ fo’ huh, ’cause she ain’t nevah been in. 
de habit o’ cornin’ back aftah meals. I had jes’ put my 
cape on an’ wuz gittin’ ready to tie up de bun’l’ er vittles. 
I had wropped up in paper. I stahted to grab f’ hit. 
when Mis’ Fanny walked in; but she seen hit befo’ I 
could hide it undah my cape. Huh eyes jes’ bo’ed thoo de- 
wrappin’. Hit sort o’ made me oneasy. 

“ ‘Honey,’ I says, ‘whut you doin’ back in de kitchen 
dis time o’ evenin’, ’way fum de Gunnel? You knows het 
always lak to have you roun’ Him when he’s home.’ Mis’' 


76 


Viney on Conservation 


Fanny ain’t seem to heah me. ‘Viney/ she say, sort o' 
sharp like — ’taint often I heahs Mis’ Fanny use dat tone 
— ‘whut has you got in dat.bun’l’?’ Well, she ax me so 
onexpected dat I tole de trufe. ‘Hit’s some supper, Mis’ 
Fanny,’ I says, ‘dat I ain’t had time to eat heer; so I’m 
totin’ hit home.’ An’ I thought dat’d be de end of hit. 
But no. ‘Open de bun’l’,’ says Mis’ Fanny, ‘I wants to 
see ef you ’lowed yo’se’f ’nough to eat.’ Dey wuzn’t 
nothin’ else to do but open hit; so I done hit.” 

“I’s plum’ s’prised at Mis’ Fanny!” Uncle Peter in- 
terjected. “Whut wuz in de bun’l’?” 

“Dey wuzn’t nothin’ but half a chicken, an’ a loaf 
o’ bread Mis’ Fanny didn’t need, an’ a pat o’ butter, an’ 
a couple o’ po’k chops, an’ three roastin’ ears, an’ de sweet 
taters whut was lef’ fum suppah — an’ a few odds an’ en’s 
lak dat.” 

Uncle Peter grunted. 

“Whut de matter wid de white folks, anyhow, dat 
<dey ain’t lak dey use to be? Whut Mis’ Fanny say?” 

“Mis’ Fanny was as mad as a ho’net,” answered 
Viney in an aggrieved tone. “She tol’ me hit ’twuzn’t 
jio use in huh j’inin’ de Food Convuhsation S’ciety when 
dey wuz a leak goin’ on in huh kitchen. 

“ ‘Mis’ Fanny,’ I says, ‘dis ain’t no leak ! A leak’s 
sumpin’ whut’s wasted — jes’ plum’ wasted. None er 
dese heer vittles is gwine to be wasted. No’m! Dey’s 
gwine in a good cause. Why, Mis’ Fanny,’ I says, ‘I 
ain’t had no meat in de house sence Friday, when Hen- 
ry Clay’s houn’ dog brung home a piece o’ bacon he mus’ 
V lifted fum somewheres. De food now’days am so ex- 
pensable dat me an’ Isom cain’t even keep de chillen’s 
stummicks middlin’ full. De white ladies whut come 
to call on me de yuther day tol’ me how all de folks, 
white an’ black, got to be mo’ ’c’mical wid dey food^ f um 
now on. But, Mis’ Fanny, dey didn’ know dat de mos’ 
of us black ones don’t usually have ’nough fo’ to be 
’co’mical. So dat’s why I’m carryin’ dem vittles home, 
honey. ’Cause ef I’s gwine to jine de Food Convuhsa- 
tion S’ciety I’s got to have ’nough food in de house fo’ 
to have convuhsation wid!”’ 


Viney On Club Doings. 


“Where was you yistiddy aft’noon?" asked Uncle* 
Peter as he settled himself against his favorite post on 
Viney 's little cabin porch. Viney was intent upon match- 
ing pieces of gayly colored gingham and calico together 
for a log cabin quilt. “Campsey sent me up heah wid a 
mess o’ greens fo’ you-all, an’ wasn’ no one roun' to 
leave ’em wid; so I toted ’em back home ag’in.” 

“You c’n tote ’em on back up heah. Uncle Petah,” 
said Viney. “My th’oat’s been fairly hollerin’ fo’ greens. 
I would ’a’ been heah, on’y I was needed up at Miss Fan- 
ny Slocumses. I went up there to houseclean befo’ de 
meetin’ an’ serve light ’freshmenfs afterward.” 

“Miss Fanny ce’tainly am de meetin’est lady in dis' 
town. Fus’ hit was Suffidge; den hit was dis heah So- 
cial Circus wuk; den de Food Convuhsation. An' now 
whut nex’?” 

“Dis heah was de meetin’ of de Fense S’ciety. I 
couldn’ heah whut hit was all ’bout, perzackly, ’cause I 
was fixin’ de tea things over in de fur cornder of de li- 
bery. But I tried to keep a ear peeled on da way dey 
runs deir meetin’s, so’s I could git some of hit in my 
haid an’ mek de members of de Mothers of Africky set 
up an’ take notice at de monthly meetin’. An’ I picked 
up a few’ doin’s heah an’ dere fum de white ladies. 

“Fus’ you’s got to rise an’ ’dress de cheer fo’ you 
spress whut you’s aimin’ to say. An’ s’posin’ one er de 
ladies wants to puppose sumpin’ whut she thinks ought 
to be did, she gits up an’ speaks huh min’ out; an’ den 
she sets down. Den’ de pres’dent say; ‘Ladies, hit have 
been moved dat we does so an’ so. Is dere anyone sick 
o’ de motion?’ An’ ef someone gits up an’ say dey am, 
why den dey all takes a vote on hit; an’ den de pres’dent 
say: ‘De eyes has it.’ 

“Miss Fanny splained dem pahts to me afterward. 
Hit seem dat dem ladies runs de s’cieties by whut am 
called parlormeant rules. Dat am, ef you ain’t got de 
right kind er congenuarity wid some er de members, an’ 


77 


78 


Viney on Club Doings 


you’s settin’ in de parlor holdin* de meetin’, you’s got 
to kiver up yo' feelin’s wid manners. Once de meetin’s 
broke up, an’ de ladies leaves de house, dey lets de tuck 
outen de politeness. 

"‘Uncle Peter, one er de main diffunces ’twixt de 
white folks an’ de cullud, outside o’ skin an’ hair, am 
dat us darkies am mo’ free wid showin’ ouah inside feel- 
in’s den de white folks. You knows down at de Mothers 
of Africky meetin’s we ain’t nevah use no parlormeant 
rules; yet things comes out ’bout lak dey would ef we 
did have ’em. When de Mothers was fixin fo’ to have a 
new treasurer after ol’ Aunt Dicey Johnson borried all 
de money she had in de treasury fo’ to have a chicken 
dinner, Lindy Jackson an’ Ros’bel bofe tuck it in deir 
haids to go after dat office. Lindy beat Ros’bel to hit by 
goin’ roun’ on de sly an’ tellin’ de members dat Ros’bel 
had dat cov’tush a disposition she’d take a nickel offen 
a dead man’s eye. Hit wa’n’t so a-tall; but Lindy was 
boun’ fo’ to be treasurer an’ wouldn’t stop at nothin’. 

“You ’members bearin’ ’bout what a wool-pullin’ 
match dere was de day Lindy got ’lected? Ros’bel said 
hit was a bunco game, an’ she wa’n’t gwine to be bunked 
by no one ! Long as she didn’ git ’lected, she say she was 
gwine to have de pleasure er takin’ hit out of Lindy’s 
hide right on de spot. An’ she sho’ did take her pleasure, 
twel de whole meetin’ riz up in a bunch an’ pulled her 
offen de new treasurer. 

“Now ef hit was ary of de white ladies’ s’cieties 
where someone was runnin’ fo’ pres’dent, fo’ ninstance, 
an’ spose dat Mis’ Fanny beat Mis’ Buffo’d to hit, do you 
reckon dem ladies would ondress deir tempahs? No, 
Uncle Petah; white folks am too mannerable fo’ dat. 
Mis’ Buffo’d she’d sail up to Mis’ Fanny after de ’lection 
an’ tell her how plum’ tickled to pieces she am dat Mis’ 
Fanny was ’lected; while on de inside she’d be so bilin’ 
mad she’d mighty nigh swell up an’ bust. An’ lak ef 
hit was dat Mis’ Fanny had got ’lected to be pres’dent er 
De Free Soup fo’ de Poor S’ciety, Mis’ Buffo’d ain’t 
gwine to have no’ rest twel she stahts a s’ciety called 
De Free Sandwich fo’ de Poor ’Sociation, an’ gits herse’f 
made pres’dent er dat. An’ whenever she c’n double- 


Viney on Club Doings 


79 


cross Mis’ Fanny an’ git her in bad, she’s gwine to do 
hit. 

“Hit’s a heap mo’ politer way dat de white ladies 
has dan de way Lindy an’ Ros’bel’d do hit; but hit ain’t 
so short an’, relievin’ to de feelin’s. Lindy an’ Ros’bel 
has hit out on de spot an’ den goes on bein’ de best er 
fr’en’s. But wid dem two white ladies, one er dese heah 
reg’lar fam’ly fuse gits stahted, almos’ lak dey has up 
mongst de mount’neers. Mis’ Fanny gits so ag’vated at 
Mis’ Buffo’d dat she gits up a party an’ sends imitations 
to all de quality what fit endurin’ de wah, ’cep’in’ de 
Buffo’dses. Den Mis’ Buffo’d egg de majah on to cut 
Cunnel Slocum daid on de street. Den de whole two 
families takes hit up, cl’ar on down to de secon’ an’ third 
gingerations, twel dey has stahted such a ruckus dere 
ain’t hahdly no stoppin’ hit. 

“Dese heah club doin’s puts me in mind er de time 
when one er de ladies in Mis’ Fanny’s set stahted de 
Confeddick Cim’tery Improvement S’ciety. Dat was be- 
fo’ you an’ Campsey come heah fum Marietta, Uncle 
Petah. 

“Well, dat cim’tery ce’tainly did need some improve- 
ment. Hit had got so choked up an’ run ovah wid wild 
grape an’ honeysuckle vines an’ weeds dat you’d jes’ 
nachully have to dig ef you wanted to fin’ de top er one 
er de graves. Whut tombstones you could see shinin’ 
thoo de tangle er bresh was leanin’ ev’y which-a-ways, 
’count er bein’ undermined by de rains, an’ no one to 
prop ’em up ag’in. In de middle er de graveyahd, 
mongst de sycamo’s, was a li’l ramshackle cabin whut 
had been built f o’ de f us’ section what tended to de place ; 
an’ when he died hadn’t no othah one evah been hiahed 
ag’in. Hit had got to be such a skeery-lookin’ spot dat 
you wouldn’ ’a’ walked by de place in daytime, Uncle 
Petah, widout rubbin’ de rabbit’s foot in yo’ hime pocket. 
At night I don’t reckon nothin’ went enar hit, .’cep’in’ de 
hoot owls an’ snakes an’ hants an’ student doctors. 

“So de Improvemet S’ciety was stahted. Mis’ 
Buffo’d was de one what got hit up. Maybe she fo’got 
to ax Miss Jessamine Poindextah, an’ maybe she didn’. 
Anyways, Miss Jessamine wa’n’t axed as I heerd fum de 


80 


Viney on Club Doings 


talk goin’ on up at Slocumses. Miss Jessamine was a 
maiden lady whut lived heah befo’ yo’ time, Uncle Petah. 
Now dere am sweet an’ sour maiden ladies, jes’ lak dere 
am sweet an’ sour married ones. I nevah was one er de 
kin’ dat b’lieved a woman’s tempah ’pended on whether 
de Lawd sent her a husban’ er not. One er de peperyest- 
tongued white ladies evah I worked fo’ was a widow lady 
what had laid away three husban’s. An’ one er de sweet- 
est ones I knows right now am Mis’ Fanny’s onmarried 
sistah, whut lives in Birningham. 

“Well, de word sweet an’ Miss Jessamine nevah had 
’sociated much together. She had sharpened her tongue 
on other folks’ feelin’s so long dat she could slash right 
an’ lef’ wid it, same as you an’ Isom use’ to could wid a 
razor. Her an’ Mis’ Buffo’d had been bad fr’en’s off 
an on fo’ yeahs. Some said that Miss Jessamine had cas*^ 
sheep’s eyes at de majah oncet ’pon a time, an’ he dis- 
app’inted huh ambition by marr’in’ Miss Annie Bracken- 
ridge — you knows Miss Buffo’d was a Brackenridge. 

“Anyhow, when Miss Jessamine foun’ out dat dey 
had stahted dis heah s’ciety, an’ she wa’n’t even ask’ to 
be a high private in hit, let alone de pres’dent er sumpin’’ 
lak dat, anyone might know dat she wa’n’t gwine to res’ 
twel she settled de sco’ ’tween her an’ Miss Buffo’d. I 
was ovah at Slocumses one day when Miss Jessamine 
call’ on Miss Fanny; an’ de way she let herse’f out ’bout 
Mis’ Buffo’d mos’ ce’tainly mus, ’a’ het up de air roun' 
her. I was cleanin’ de windows in de dinin’ room an’ I 
didn’ have to strain my bearin’ a bit to find out whut 
Miss Jessamine’s ’pinion was of Mis’ Buffo’d. 

“Course dere was a comeback dat Miss Jessamine 
fix’ up. Whut do she do but git up de Daughters er de 
Resolution, dat tuck in, as I un’stan’s hit, all dem ladies- 
what am ’cended fum Gawge Wash’n’on. My, but dat 
was a hot one fo’ Miss Buffo’d! ’Cause Miss Jessamine 
ce’tainly did have blue blood in her veins, even ef some 
of hit was a li’l mixed wid vinegar ; an’ hit seem’ dat Mis’ 
Buffo’d’’S folks hadn’ come ovah fum ’crost de sea twel 
aftah Gawge Wash’n’on was daid. 

“Den de whole town waited to see whut Mis’ Buffo’d 
gwine to do now. She didn’ dis’point ’em. Mis’ Buffo’d 


Viney on Club Doings 


81 


had writ stories now an' ag'in fo' de newspapahs, all 
'bout de Civil Wah, an' such; an' Miss Jessamine could 
make up po'try out of her own haid. An' maybe she 
writ stories too. Hit was some such foolishness as dat. 
Anyhow, Mis' Buffo'd stahts de Arthurs' Club ; an' course 
Miss Jessamine didn' jine, 'count er not bein' s’fficiently 
pu'suaded. Mis' Buifo'd tuck good care to give hit out 
dat de Arthurs' Club was very selec'; an' nachully dat 
didn' make her any mo' pop’lar wid Miss Jessamine dan 
she had been. 

‘'An' so hit commence', nip an' tuck ; an' de clubs an' 
s'cieties sprung up one aftah 'nother twel dey was as 
thick as blackberries in July. Folks commence’ takin' 
sides wid dem two ladies, twel half er de town wa’n’t 
speakin' to de yuther half as dey pass by. Talk 'bout de 
fracas 'twixt de No'th an' Souf ! Uncle Petah, hit looked 
lak de whole Civil Wah was bein’ fit ovah ag'in. 'Bout de 
onlies' lady whut kep' out er de muss, an’ was fr'en’s 
wid bofe er de en’mies, was Mis' Fanny. I used to hear 
her an’ de cunnel laughin' 'twixt deyselves eve'y time 
Mis' Fanny brung home news 'bout anothah club bein' 
stahted. Hit got so dat even de servants tuck sides in 
de quar’l. Dat was de yeah de Mothers of Africky was 
fo'med by Miss Buffo'd’s cook, an’ de Do-Right Sisters 
by Miss Jessamine's. 

“Sometimes I thinks dat de Lawd jes’ sets back fo' 
a while eve’y now an then an' lets folks run things all 
by deyselves, jes' to see how fur dey will go on in 
quar'lin' an’ jealousness. An’ aftah dey gits to 'bout de 
mos' mixed-up-est place dey can git to, he say to hisse’f : 
‘Now hit’s 'bout time to stop dis heah fool nonsense!' 
An' — bang! — down draps some gre’t big trouble, whut 
hits eve'y body, rich an’ po' all alike, an no way to dodge 
hit. An' folks is so busy gittin’ together to he’p one 
'nothah, an' tryin' to lighten each othah’s woe, dat all 
de persnickety li’l diffunces 'twixt 'em jes’ melts out 
er sight, lak a snowball on a hot stove lid. 

“I has often wondered where dat fight would 'a' 
ended ef de yellow fever hadn’ 'a' broke out. Hit was 
goin' all ovah de Souf at de time; an' 'count er de qua’n- 
teen laws bein' kep’ unstrictly, hit struck dis town too. 


82 


Viney on Club Doings 


Dere was pow’ful few families dat de Yellow Jack didn' 
strike. De onlies’ two sides dat was bein' tuck by folks 
den was dem whut was well 'nough to do de doctorin’ an' 
nussin’, an’ dem whut was sick an’ dyin’. 

“An’ de Confeddick Cim’tery, whut had been plum' 
fo’got by de Improvement S’ciety endurin’ de time eve’y- 
body was busy makin’ deselfs pres’dent er some new 
club er othah — well, hit had to be noticed at las’. An’ 
day by day folks was brung dere whut de fever had took 
off. Miss Jessamine was ’mongst ’em. 

“Hit was endurin’ de yellow fever time dat Uncle 
Zebe tuck chahge er de ci’mtery. Him an’ his wife 
cl’ared away de vines an’ bresh, an’ cleaned de place er 
snakes. An’ some er de gen’l’mans in town got together 
an’ seen dat de walks was made an’ sod an’ flowers plant- 
ed, an’ ev’y thing fix’ up sumpin gran’ !” 

“Didn’ de Improvement S’ciety take- cha’ge er de 
place?” queried Uncle Peter. 

“Ce’tainly hit did. Uncle Petah; jes’ as soon as de 
gen’l’mans finished improvin’ hit. An’ dey has had cha’ge 
evah since.” 

“Am dat de onlies’ s’ciety whut was lef’ out of all 
dem whut was stahted?” 

Before answering this question Viney carefully 
folded the partially made quilt with which she was oc- 
cupied, into a neat roll. “Well, I wouldn’t say dat per- 
zackly. Uncle Petah.” 

She reached over toward the window for a rusty 
black bonnet that reposed on the sill. 

“Whar you gwine?” 

“I has to go on up to Ros’bel’s, Uncle Petah. De 
Mothers of Africky is havin’ a ’lection dis aft’noon, an' 
Ise runnin’ fo’ de office er Queen Region!” 


ANOTHER PATRIOTIC MONOLOC 

“WHEN MONTY CAME HOME 

FROM THE MARNE” 

By SEYMOUR S. TIBBALS 


STORY tells of a widow^s son, a peace- 
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1 knit, 1 knit, 

I pray, I pray; 

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SHA/D FO/T OUR BIG GATALOGUE 



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Fairies, Witches, Goblins 
Spirit of Christmas 
Characters of Flowers 
Patriotic Personalities 
Elves, Brownies and Gnomes 
A Variety of Dolls 
Little Folks of Long Ago 
Grecian Maids and Matron 
Characters of Comedy 
The Four Seasons 
Holiday Characters > 

Different Nationalities 
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ILLUSTRATED FROWI ACTUAL PHOTOGRAPHS 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 


~ | 0 001 486 932 3 ^ 

The Pageant of the Hour 

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AN ALLEGORICAL PAGEANT OF THE 
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r:^ — ---^= By I^ERAB EBERLE ======= 

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